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\ 



JN PRESS. 



GEOGRAPHICAL STUDIES, 

BY THE LATK 

PROFESSOR CARL RITTER, 

OF BERLIN. 

S^ranslateb from lljje original (Herman, 

WITH A 

SKETCH OF THE AUTHOR'S LIFE, 
B T 

WILLIAM LEONHARD GAGE. 

With a fine Portrtut of the Author. 

Prof. ARNOLD GUYOT, the eminent physicist, and author of the popular 
work, "The Earth and Man," in speaking of distinguished scientific men, says: — 
" Humboldt, Ritter and Steffens are the three great minds who have breath* d 
a new Ufe into the science of the physical and moral world. The scientific life of 
the author opened under the full radiance of the light they spread around them, 
and it is with a sentiment of filial piety that he delights to recall this connection 
and to render to them his public homage." 



THE 



STORY OF MY CAREER, 



AS 



STUDENT AT FREIBERG AND JENA, 



AND AS 



WITH 

PERSONAL REMINISCENCES OF GOETHE, SCHILLER, SCHELLINQ, 

6CHLEIERMACHER, FICHTE, NOVALIS, SCHLEGEL, 

NEANDEE, AND OTHERS. 

HEINRICH STEFFENS. 

TEAK SLATED BT 

I 

WILLIAM LEONHARD GAGE. 



BOSTON: 
GOULD AND LINCOLN, 

60 WASHINGTON STBEET. 

NEW YORK: SHELDON AND COMPANY. 

CINCINNATI: GEORGE S. BLANCHARD. 

186 3. 



-\5 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by 

GOULD AND LINCOLN, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District of Massachusetts. 



GEO. C. RAWD & AVERT, 
ELECTEOTTrERS AND P R I X T S B Sv 



1 



INTRODUCTION 



Heinrich Steffens was born at Stavanger, in Nor- 
way, the second day of May, 1773. He spent but a few 
years in his native country, and while he was a mere child 
his parents removed to Copenhagen, which became the home 
of his youth. He studied in the universities of Copenha- 
gen and of Kiel, and became a licensed lecturer in the lat- 
ter before reaching the age of twenty-five. He manifested 
very early a love for a certain class of metaphysical studies, 
— that which builds on a basis of physical science a lofty 
though rather sHght and unsubstantial superstructure of sen- 
timent. Steffens had a remarkable leaning to the philosophy 
of rehgion, and though his was by no means a logical mind, 
nor one which enjoyed logical processes, yet he loved those 
long and vague meditations on the attributes of the Deity 
in which many of the German scholars indulge. He came 
mainly under the influence of Spinoza, and passed at a later 
period under that of Jacobi, Kant, and Schelling. In his 
mature years the last named was his master without a rival •, 

m 



VI INTRODUCTION. 

but Spinoza was the first great genius who awoke the pow- 
ers of Steffens, and shaped his n^nd, and gave direction to 
his aims. The young man was fortunate in his acquaint- 
anceships, for Hensler of Kiel, Rist and Schimmehnaun, all 
were drawn to him, and did what they could to develop his 
faculties. Steffens was an admirer of the English Hterature, 
and Shakspeare was the poet whom he most desired to 
comprehend. He never was master of our language, and 
what he read of our literatm'e had to come to him in trans- 
lations, and no good version of Shakspeare had then been 
made. After the verdict which has been silently passed 
upon Young's Night Thoughts, it is amusing to see how he 
struggled to get at the meaning of that ponderous and heavy 
performance, and attributed his failure to the profundity 
rather than to the real emptiness of the verbose mass. He 
tried to fathom Sterne's humor, but could not reach the bot- 
tom of it, and the real power of Tristam Shandy was always 
hid from him. Yet, Steffens had a good natural taste for 
the humorous, and a light play of mirth tinged the most of 
his ordinary conversation. His leading quality, however, 
was his vivacity, which was extraordinary^", and which never 
died out, even in the advanced old age to which he Uved. 
He was known as the " genial Steffens," and always wore 
an air of benignity mingled with nobleness. Rev. Dr. 
Sprague, of Albany, noticed this, and alludes to it in his 



INTRODUCTION. VII 

" European Celebrities," where the countenance of Profes- 
sor Steffens is compared to that of Dr. Nott, of Union Col- 
lege, although, by a mistake in printing, the name is written 
Stephens, and might easily pass without being recognized as 
that of the physicist Steffens. 

The man whose autobiography is given in the following 
pages has been brought a number of tunes before the read- 
ing public of this country and of England, but never ex- 
cepting in a brief and unsatisfactory manner. In the letters 
of Humboldt, which were put in the possession of Varnha- 
gen von Ense, and published by Ludmilla Assing, a year or 
two since, is one from the king of Denmark to Hmnboldt, in 
which his majesty expresses himself in terms of great pride 
in the reputation of the Danish professor resident in Berlin, 
though Humboldt indulges in one of those ungenerous flings 
at Steffens, so many of which are found in that unfortunate 
book, and which have done so much to tarnish the fair fame 
of him whom we hardly invested with the ordinary weak- 
nesses of humanity. 

But the most emphatic testimony to the value of Steffens's 
scientific career is to be found in a book of wide reputation, 
Guyot's " Earth and Man." He not only refers in the body 
of that work to Steffens, but in the pi^face he alludes to him 
and to Bitter as the two men to whom he was the most in- 
debted for the interest which he has displayed in Physical 



VIII INTRODUCTION. 

Geography, and the scientific training which has directed all 
his researches m this new branch of knowledge. I read that 
passage in Guyot's work years ago, just after its pubUcation, 
and while I was a student at Cambridge. I knew nothing 
of Ritter and nothing of Steffens, but the enthusiastic devo- 
tion of their interpreter to their genius kindled an interest in 
my own mind which led, after the lapse of five years, to my 
enrolling myself as a pupil of Eitter, at Berlin, and to the 
translating, still five years later, a selection ^ from the volu- 
minous works of the former, and the preparation of the work 
now before my readers. 

The autobiography of Stefiens, written in his old age, and 
called Was ich erlebte, or The Story of my Life, and pub- 
lished in Breslau some years since, is very voluminous and 
difiuse. Indeed, it would be perfectly correct to say that it 
is tedious to a degree. It would be so to a German, it is 
doubly so to an American or an Englishman. It is in ten 
volumes, and covers four thousand pages. It is dictated in 
all the garrulousness of old age. It is not written with a 
discriminating appreciation of what men wish to know, and 
the story of his childhood, and the accounts of his relatives 
and of his college friends, are just as full as the allusions to 

1 Greogn'aphical Studies. From the German of Professor Carl Rit- 
ter. Beaton : Gould and Lincoln. (In press.) 



INTRODUCTION, IX 

the great men and the great events of his time. It made 
my task, as a whole, easier, for it made the labor of reject- 
ing the useless parts a light one, and only subjected me to 
the pains of wading through thousands of trifling and worth- 
less pages. Yet there were more than " the four grains in 
two bushels of chaff," and when I had found them, unlike 
the ideas of Gratiano, they were worth the search. Steffens's 
vivacity is reproduced in the pages of his autobiography, and 
perhaps nowhere in the rich treasury of German literary me- 
moirs is to be found a gallery of portraits so graphic and yet 
so faithfiil as that which is opened in this work to American 
readers. 

I have passed over the first three volumes without draw- 
in<y a word from them, excepting the facts which are stated 
in the first pages of this Introduction. The life of Stefiens 
begins to be interesting when, at the age of twenty-five, and 
provided by Count Schinmaelmann, so well and favorably 
known fi'om the letters of Niebuhr, with a stipend from the 
Danish treasury to defray his travelling expenses, the young 
philosopher enters Germany, the fiiture theatre of his career. 
Schimmelmann was then minister of finance in Denmark, 
and Stefiens had already gained^ his favor, and was about to 
enter upon the enjoyment of it. With the opening of the 
fourth volume, where Stefiens is seen passing into Germany, 
my real task of collating and translating begins. 



X INTRODUCTION^. 

In executing this work I have tried to reproduce the easy, 
flowing style in which Stefiens wrote, and to draw out those 
passages, and those only, which I have judged would most 
interest cultivated readers who take an interest in the men 
and in the literature of Germany. The ninth and tenth 
chapters, on Steffens's Military Career, I find already trans- 
lated, and so incorporate at second hand. 

W. L. G. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

8TEFFENS ENTERS GERMANY — JOURNEY THROUGH THE HARTZ — 
FOOT JOURNEY TO JENA — ERFURT AND ITS ATTRACTIVE LADIES 
— JENA— LIFE IN JENA— STUDENT LIFE IN JENA — FOOT JOUR- 
NEY THROUGH THE THURINGIAN FOREST — FIRST EXPERIENCE 
IN BUYING A HORSE — ASPECTS OF GERMAN CHARACTER — THE 
LIFE OF GERMAN MINERS — KANT, FICHTE AND SCHELLINQ — 
FICHTE'S METAPHYSICS — RETURN TO JENA 15 



CHAPTER II. 



FIRST VIEW OF SCHELLING — FICHTE IN THE LECTURE-ROOM — 
LIFE IN JENA IN ITS GOLDEN TIME — SCHELLING — INTERVIEW 
WITH GOETHE — STEFFENS'S VISIT TO GOETHE — SCHILLER COM- 
PARED WITH GOETHE — FIRST REPRESENTATION OF SCHILLER'S 
WALLENSTEIN — STEFFENS'S JUDGMENT OF WALLENSTEIN — UNI- 
TY AMONG THE SCHOLARS OF JENA — STEFFENS'S LOVE OF THE 
FINE ARTS — JACOBI'8 FA3I0US LETTER — SPIRIT OF CRITICISM 
AT JENA 36 

XI • 



XII CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER III. 

WANT OP ATTRACTIONS IN BERLIN — INCIDENT FROM FICHTE'S 
I^IPE — HIS UNSWERVING ADVOCACY OF TRUTH— FICHTE DRIVEN 
FROM JENA — HIS ACCOUNT OF THE USE OF HIS SYSTEM — CAR- 
DINAL POINTS OF FICHTE'S PHILOSOPHY — HIS ALLEGED ATHE- 
ISM—JOURNEY TO FREIBERG — SECOND RECEPTION BY GOETHE 
— INTERVIEW WITH ]\IALTE BRUN — GLOOMY ENTRANCE INTO 
HALLE — MORE FAVORABLE IMPRESSIONS — REICHARDT, THE MU- 
SICAL COMPOSER 58 



CHAPTER IV. 

STEFFENS'S FIRST VISIT TO BERLIN — BERLIN — MEETS TIECK — 
STEFFENS IN A STRAIT PLACE — FREIBERG — WERNER, THE MIN- 
ERALOGIST—LIFE AT FREIBERG — VISITS DRESDEN — THE GAL- 
LERY AT DRESDEN — FREEDOM OF LIFE AT FREIBERG — STEF- 
FENS'S MANNER WITH OPPONENTS— REFLECTIONS ON ART — OLD 
GERMAN POETRY — DISCOVERY OF THE VOLTAIC PILE — STEF- 
FENS'S FIRST BOOK 74 



CHAPTER V. 



FREDERICK SCHLEGEL — WIT AND WITTY MEN — GOETHE'S COM- 
PREHENSIVENESS — NOVALIS — STEFFENS'S HUMILLVTION — HIS 
ACQUAINT^VNCE %VITII TIECK — EXPERIMENTAL PHILOSOPHY — 
RETURN TO DEN:MARK — LEAVING GER:MANY — COPENHAGEN — 
KIND RECEPTION — GOETHE'S INVITATION — STEFFENS COMMEN- 
CES A COURSE OF LECTURES — HIS MARRIAGE — MARRIED LIFE 
AND DESPERATE CIRCUMSTANCES — BETTER PROSPECTS.. . .103 



CONTENTS. XIH 

CHAPTER VI. 

EETX2RN TO HALLE — COMMENCES HOUSEKLEEPING — DARK PROS- 
PECTS — SCHLEIEEMACHER — SLIFE AS PROFESSOR AT HALLE — 
FICHTE — JOHANNES VON MULLER — ALEX. VON HUMBOLDT — 
POLITICAL ASPECTS — WARLIKE APPEARANCES — EXCITED FEEL- 
ING IN ILiVLLE — THE SEIZING OF THE CITY BY THE FRENCH 
— NAPOLEON AT HALLE — THE LTflVERSITY BROKEN UP BY 
NAPOLEON — SAD DAYS — UNSETTLED LIFE 132 



CHAPTER VII. 

RETURNS TO HALLE — DISCOURAGING REOPENING OF THE UNI- 
VERSITY — PATRIOTISM OF THE PROFESSORS — KING JEROME 
BONAPARTE'S VISIT TO HALLE — INTERVIEW WITH JOHANNES 
VON MULLER — SHATTERED CONDITION OF GERMANY — GALL, 
THE FOL^NDER OF PHRENOLOGY — GOETHE AND GALL — GALL'S 
PHRENOLOGICAL LECTURE AT HALLE — SCHELLING-ACHDI VON 
ARNDI — ^VILLIAM GRIMM, THE PHILOLOGIST — FOUNDING OF 
THE WflVERSITY AT BERLIN — STEFFENS'S VIEWS OF NATURAL 
SCIENCE — LAST TRIALS AT HALLE 1C5 



CHAPTER VIII. 

CALL TO BRESLAU — TRIP TO JENA AND BERLIN — NAPOLEON'S 
RECEPTION AT WEIMAR — GOETHE — DINNER AT GOETHE'S — HIS 
ONSLAUGHT AT DINNER — SCHLEIERMACHER AS PROFESSOR AT 
BERLIN — THE FACULTY AT BERLIN — BOECKH, BEKKER, NIE- 
BUHR — GATHERINGS OF BERLIN SAVANS — ARRIVAL AT BRES- 
LAU — STEFFENS'S LOVE OF GERMANY — COMMENCEMENT OF 
PROFESSORSHIP AT BRESLAU 188 



XIV CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER IX 



STEFFENS'S MILITARY CAREER. — DARK POLITICAL PROS- 
PECTS—GENERAL GNEISENAU —PUBLIC EXCITEMENT — STIR IN 
BRESLAU — SCENE IN STEFFENS'S LECTURE-ROOM — HIS LETTER 
FROM THE KING — THE PHILOSOPHER BECOMES LIEUTENANT — 
STEIN — BLtJCHER. . , 207 



CHAPTER X. 



STEFFENS'S MILITARY CAREER MY FIRST SIGHT OF 

WAR — "MY KINGDOM FOR A HORSE " — GNEISENAU'S COURAGE 
AT GROSS-GORSCHEN — SCHARNHORST MORTALLY WOUNDED — 
BATTLE OF LEIPZIG — STEFFENS'S RESIGNATION AND RETURN 
TO BRESLAU. 240 



CHAPTER XI. ^ 

LABORS IN BRESLAU — AVERSION OF NATURALISTS TO METAPHYS- 
ICS — NEANDER — PLATONIC ATTACHMENTS — JACOBI — FRANTZ 
BAADER— STEFFENS'S PROFESSIONAL LIFE AT BRESLAU — RAHEL, 
WIFE OF VARNHAGEN VON ENSE — BETTINA VON ARMIN — DE LA 
MOTTE FOUQUE — STEFFENS'S RELIGIOUS FAITH — THEOLOGICAL 
INQUIRIES — TRANSFER TO BERLIN — CONCLUSION 264 



THE 



STORY OF MY CAREER. 



CHAPTER I. 

8TEFFENS ENTERS GERMANY — JOURNEY THROUGH THE HARTZ — 
FOOT JOURNEY TO JENA — ERFURT AND ITS ATTRACTIVE LADIES 
— JENA — LIFE IN JENA — STUDENT LIFE IN JENA — FOOT JOUR- 
NEY THROUGH THE THURINGIAN FOREST — FIRST EXPERIENCE 
IN BUYING* A HORSE — ASPECTS OF GERMAN CHARACTER — THE 
LIFE OF GERMAN MINERS — KANT, FICHTE AND SCHELLING — 
FICHTE'S METAPHYSICS — RETURN TO JENA. 

My long-cherished wish now approached its ful- 
filment, and Europe lay before me. Yet, while 
every country in it was attractive to me, Germany 
was the one nearest to my heart and claimed my 
first attention. Free from care, happy and full of 
hope, I was now in a condition to turn my steps 
whichever way I would. As a naturalist, or rather 
as a mineralogist, I had received a certain sum for 
travelling expenses from my government, but a 
deep and real interest in my scientific pursuits filled 
me. Philosophical speculation was not what would 
be called my specialty ; I would not be a stranger 

to this department, but it did not meet all the de- 
ls 



16 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

mands of my being. I had a kind of premonition 
of the nature of the epoch which was just opening 
in all directions. I saw old authorities losing their 
value, and I comj^rehended quite well that on one 
side Goethe and on the other Philosophy were set- 
ting all the scientific elements into a ferment. I 
saw that I must be a man of the new time just 
opening. I had attempted much, and in almost all 
dejjartments of human knowledge I had sought to 
attain clear views. What Spinoza had been to mo 
I have already stated, — the casket which contained 
all the riches that the future seemed to hold in store 
for me. Fichte had taught me that the glory of 
man's self-determining will finds its only worthy 
equipoise, and, indeed, its more than equivalent, in 
the inward activity of the mind itself ^ut it was 
to be Schelling who should transfer me to a new 
stand-point, one which should give an interpreta- 
tion to the whole previous course of my life from 
childhood up. A new existence seemed to be open- 
ing to me, and I addressed myself to the task .of 
grouping what is deepest and noblest in knowledge, 
and of comprehending the harmony which exists 
between all the conflicting elements of nature. But, 
full of joy as this rich future made me, it did not 
hinder me from giving myself unreservedly to the 
delight of the present. 

It is not easy to conceive how imposing to the 
(^Q of a North European are the mental conflicts 
which are going forward in the heart of the conti- 
nent. The distant murmurs have an enchanting 
tone in his ear, and every name which cohies to 



STEFFENS EyTEIiS GERMANY. 17 

him seems surrounded with a halo of glory. The 
petty animosities, the literary and scientific squab- 
bles, are lost in the great whole, and the scholars of 
Europe are elevated in his eyes into high-priests of 
knowledge. A cultivated German can hardly visit 
Italy or Greece or the East with more interest than 
I felt in approaching Germany. What they seek is 
a dead Past, which must be strange and distant 
even were they to live in its very midst. I was 
looking for a glorious Future in which I might live 
and have a share, — a future which should absorb 
the entire activities of my nature. It would kindle 
my every power, and unfold to me, as to the world, 
a new and brigjht era. 

As we approached Brunswick, and the beautiful 
environs of the city began to appear, I tried to 
descry away beyond the buildings the outlines of 
the Hartz Mountains. My longing for mountainous 
scenery had been much increased by my recent so- 
journ in Norway. We stopped at the Blue Angel 
Inn, which had pleasant associations for me in con- 
nection with the author Knigge. But when we left 
Brunswick, as we journeyed in the fairest weather 
and thi;ough ^le most delightful scenery, and in the 
neighborhood discerned Wolfenbiittel, and later the 
towers of Halberstadt, and soon after passed Qued- 
linburg, which, although it did not come in sight, yet 
was not far away, well-known names and old recol-- 
lections came thronging in ujoon me, and a bright 
sun within me seemed to emulate the outer one in 
giving a charm to the whole landscape. All the 
chords of my being resounded in harmony. Les- 



18 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

sins: bad lived in Wolfenbiittel, and Gleim's house 
at Hal])erstadt had been a favorite resort of almost 
all the leading poets of the time. Gotze had lived 
his busy, calm, retired, naturalist's life in Quedlin- 
burg, and his name brought a charm of namelct^s 
but real interest upon the whole village. I saw Les- 
sing in his library, revolving great thoughts on the 
past, and at last giving expression to them with his 
matchless skill. And from Halberstadt rung out 
the sonjTs like those which once sounded from the 
Wartburg. Gotze, and with him Rosel, Gleichen, 
Schofer, strode through the fields, lost themselves 
in the forests, made observations in the gardens, 
while the blossoms reached out to them as to old 
friends, and the cheerful insects seemed to leap 
from the grass to bid them welcome. Thus was 
the whole district peopled to my imagination, and 
almost seemed to me like classic ground. In this 
happy frame of mind, in which everything outward 
as well as inward united to make me cheerful, I 
passed a day never to be forgotten. It was about 
midnight, dark and late, when we arrived at Blank- 
enburg. 

The Hartz Mountains, through wbose ni)rthern 
spurs we were now passing, I have since traversed 
many times in all directions ; and there are so many 
pleasant associations connected with those journey- 
ings, that the Hartz Mountains, small as they are, 
fill quite a prominent place in my life. They have 
had to serve mo as an example of mountain chains 
in general, and from them I have been compelled to 
draw most of my geognostical theories and illustra- 



JOURNEY THROUGH THE HARTZ. 19 

tions. The spurs towards the north, east, and 
south, are indeed charming, often imposing. 

I think with delight on that fair summer's day 
when we wandered on foot through the woods at 
the base of the Ilartz, discovered Wernigerode and 
the bold Castle of the Mountain, visited the steep 
rocks in the Ilsethal, and climbed the next day to 
the ruins of Hartzburg. All was beautiful ; man, 
landscape, sunshine, air, forest, and mountains, com- 
bined to throw us into the happiest of moods. We 
had been told that the way to the Brocken through 
the Ilsethal was the most difficult, and so we se- 
lected it for that very reason ; but what its diffi- 
culties were we never could discover. Ascending 
by this route, the Brocken in its solitude had a look 
which was really imposing. We spent the night in 
a mean little hut on Heinrichshohe, and in the twi- 
lij^ht the Brocken reminded me somewhat of the 
Norway mountains, yet the German landscape was 
so lovely that the difference in favor of the Hartz 
scenery was immense. That night was to me one 
of perfect delight. My companion was a dear 
friend, a thorough proficient in botany, and so I 
had in his accurate knowledge a source of happiness 
which I had not enjoyed wdien journeying through 
my own country, and obliged to depend wholly 
upon my own attainments. 

Tlie view of the Ilartz from the Brocken is in no 
way imposing. The neighboring heights have no 
attractive features ; it is only the distant prospect 
and the general harmony of the whole picture that 
give it its fame. Nine times I have ascended the 



20 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

Brocken from different directions. Once I had the 
good fortune to see the famous Spectre from the 
Tower of the Brocken House. I have often admired 
tlie shadows which j^layed over the level land at 
the base, when the sun went down, as one of the 
most attractive features of the landscape. But at 
evening there arises almost always a mist which ob- 
scures everything. Yet at my first visit the atmos- 
phere was entirely clear. The shadows extended 
eastward as for as the horizon, and even prolonged 
themselves into the distant sky, so that the summit 
of the mountain, the Brocken House, the Tower, 
and we, the wondering observers, swam as shadows 
in the air. 

The ancient solitude of the Hartz has wholly 
passed away. For the witclies there no longer re- 
mains a place. Ladies and gentlemen riding, trav- 
ellers of all kinds, from a distance as well as from 
the neighborhood, singing journeymen and shout- 
ing students, met us whenever we turned in to visit 
shaded dells and desolate ravines. Where we ex- 
pected the spirits of the mountains, we encountered 
servant-girls, and the throng of people threatened 
to wear smooth even the craggy heights themselves. 

And yet I must confess that even this cheerful 
gathering-place of so many, who all feel happy, has 
its own peculiar charm. Even nature seems subor- 
dinate to life, when mountain chains share a part in 
the merriment of men. Where T had seen them in 
the cold North, they commune silently among them- 
selves, and the human voice is lost in their oppres- 
sive stillness. 



^ FOOT JOURNEY TO JENA. 21 

When we came back to Blankenbiirg I could not 
repress the desn-e to go alone and on foot to Jena. 
I took a shirt in one pocket, a map in the other ; 
even the thought that I might lose ray way had 
something attractive for me. My outside garment 
was a light kerseymere overcoat. In my hand I 
carried a long, clay j^ipe. So, towards evening, with- 
out having wandered at all out of my way, I came 
to Stolberg. I stepped into a tavern, which seemed 
fitted up for travellers by the coach. The landlady 
received me rather coolly, and when I asked for 
some supper she gave me a seat in tlie corner of 
the room, and placed before me some tripe soup. 
This whole proceeding seemed singular, and threw 
me into great perplexity how to act. I thought of 
the Norwegian peasants, who would have consid- 
ered an unwillingness to partake of food that they 
might offer a personal offence to themselves, and yet, 
hungry as I was, I could not bring myself to taste 
of the vile dish. The landlady noticed my perplex- 
ity ; but, instead of feeling hurt, she began to look 
upon me with new fivor. "Ah," said she, "the 
gentleman is piobably not used to such fare." I 
then received something better. The best chamber 
in the house was put at my disposal, and I enjoyed 
the luxury of a perfectly clean bed. On the next 
day, I passed through the whole of the charming 
valley to Rottleberode, and that walk remains in my 
memory as one of the pleasantest I ever enjoyed. 
I wholly forgot that I was on a journey. I spent a 
great part of the day in the valley. I lived over 
again the days of my childhood. I studied all the 



22 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

flowers I met, and was even pleased to fall in with 
new ones which reminded me that I was no long- 
er in my native land. I pursued dragon-flies and 
linnets, or rested by the side of a swittly-runiiing, 
shaded brook. I could scarcely tear myself from 
the valley ; steep banks on both sides shut it closely 
in. It seemed to me as if one of the fair landscapes 
of Denmark lay before me, with its back-ground of 
Scandinavian mountains. 

The rest of the journey I do not remember so 
well. Sonderhausen, where I spent a night, seemed 
a pleasant village ; Erfurt I distinctly remember. 
I stopped at the "Roman Emperor;" and at this 
house, as elsewhere on the whole journey, I was re- 
ceived without the exhibition of a prying curiosity. 
This fine old German town made a very agreeable 
impression upon me. I visited the great bell in 
Dalberg's palace. 

I do not know whether Erfurt is really celebrated 
for pretty girls ; I only know that the matrons and 
the maidens whom I saw were charming. I had 
had enough of foot-journeying, and was going to 
take the stage-coach to Weimai*'. Having nothing 
to do, I looked out upon the square in front of the 
hotel. By good fortune I saw three or four ladies 
of the burgher class, who attracted my attention 
by their genteel figures, fair skins, and fine fea- 
tures. The costume of the Saxon ladies, the mantle 
lightly thrown over the shoulders, and the graceful 
caps, may have contributed to render them attrac- 
tive in my sight. I turned to the landlord and can- 
celled my order for the stage, and declared that I 



ERFURT— ITS ATTRACTIVE LADIES. 23 

would spend some days in Erfurt, taking no pains to 
conceal my reason. He smiled, and when I asked 
him if he would not introduce me during my stay 
to some families where these angels lived, he prom- 
ised his kind help. In the afternoon he took me to 
a garden, and introduced me to some families, who 
were drinking tea there, as a Norwegian. I had 
expressly stipulated that these should be none of 
the learned classes, for on this journey I would bid 
a temporary adieu to all learning. 

Here I at first experienced an advantage which 
has since stood me iu great service when intro- 
duced to strangers. It has always been a whim of 
mine never to take letters of introduction with 
me. When I went to Germany I had none, and 
I was foolish enough to believe that my own bear- 
ing would be my best passport. But I soon found 
that what called attention to me was not my bear- 
ing, but my birthplace. Even at the hotel the land- 
lord looked at me with great astonishment when I 
announced myself as a Norwegian. And in the 
families, too, the same cause procured me much con- 
sideration. People had fanciful conceptions of my 
native land in the remote North. Norway was then 
little visited ; it lay on one side of the great course 
of travel, and a journey thither was regarded in 
almost the same light as one to the coasts of Asia 
or Africa. And so here in Erfurt my foreign ex- 
traction awakened much interest. My faint and in- 
distinct pronunciation and abundant errors in Ger- 
man were a source of great amusement. Many 



24 THE STORY OF MY CAHEEP.. 

agreeable days I passed in Erfnrt, and then in the 
happiest of moods took the coach for Jena. 

So in this place I had arrived at last, and what 
liad driven me thither was so clear in my mind that 
Jena almost seemed the goal of my journey. I in- 
deed remembered that in my own country I was 
regarded as a mineralogist, and that it was expected 
of me that I should hasten directly to Freiberg to 
study in the famous school of mineralogy, of which 
Werner was then at the head. But it would have 
been impossible for me to pass by the real centre of 
intellectual life in Germany. The little city of Jena 
in its lovely valley was very attractive, and after a 
few days I felt quite at home. 

I did not, indeed, intend to spend the summer 
months before me in Jena. I reserved these for a 
geological tour in the Thuringian forest, and wliat 
drew me specially in that direction was Heim's work 
upon the mineralogy of that district, which would 
serve me as an instructive companion at every step. 
I was not one of those young men who have the 
boldness to crowd themselves without any reserve 
upon distinguished scholars. To visit Goethe, in 
Weimar, did not occur to me, interesting as it would 
have been to have approached him. I left it to 
time and to circumstances, and reckoned safely upon 
these that they would ultimately bring me into con- 
tact with him. I had already heard that Schelling 
liad received a call to Jena as Professor Extraordi- 
narius. His arrival was expected in the autumn. 

I alighted at the Black Bear, and on the evening 



STUDENT LIFE IN JENA. 25 

of my arrival I experienced a touch of the exceed- 
ing roughness of the Jena students. 

A city in which one proposes to tarry for a little 
while, and which may even have some relation to 
our future career, has a certain impressive aspect at 
the outset. It seems to inclose even the secret of 
our destiny. At the hotel I found my friend, who 
had arrived some days before me. He found a great 
deal of fault with the bad fare, which in truth for us 
men of the Xorth, who were used to hearty and 
nourishing food, seemed execrable. We entertained 
each other with much lively talk, for we had been 
separated some time, and had enough to tell of. It 
grew dark. I looked out into the neighborhood so 
strange to me, and a restless suspicion of what was 
to come ran through my mind. Then we heard in 
the distance a loud shoutinsr like the voices of a 
number of men, and nearer and nearer they seemed 
to come. Lights had been brought shortly before, 
and, as the uproar was close upon us, a servant 
burst in to warn us to extinguish them. We asked, 
with curiosity, why, and what the shouting mob 
wanted. We suspected, indeed, that it was stu- 
dents. The servant told us that they were on their 
way to the house of Professor A., who was unpop- 
ular with them, — I know not why, — to salute him 
Tvith their Pereat, or college damnation. The cry 
of some hundred students grew plainer and plainer. 
"Out with lights" was called, and just then we 
heard the panes of glass clatter, when the warning 
was not quickly enough complied with. I confess 
that this circumstance, occurring so soon after my 



26 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

arrival, filled me with a kind of gloom. It was not 
such things as this that had called me to Jena ; 
these Avere not the voices which I wished and ex- 
pected to hear, and my first night was a sad one. 

I had the caprice to try to live as frugally as a 
Jena student, and made a week's experiment of it. 
But I lost flesh visibly. The landlord understood 
the art of treating the flesh of an old ox or ram 
with such exquisite skill that all the flavor of the 
meat disappeared, and only the woody fibre re- 
mained. As I could not drink, like a true German 
student, eight or nine bottles of lager every day, 
I grew very hungry, and had to provide for myself. 
Yet I did not give up my purpose of studying criti- 
cally German student life. In Dorndorf there was 
»i3pointed a great commerce, or carouse. Hundreds 
of students collected themselves in the halls of the 
hotel, arrayed in their well-known bizarre costume. 
I mingled anions: them. Some even of the wildest 
came up to me and asked me to drink brotherhood 
with them. I did not tarry long. It was a j^leasant 
day, the country was charming ; I took a long walk 
to Hamburg, and when I returned to Dorndorf the 
commerce was in full glow. I heard the frightful 
shouting, the wild revelry, and hurried on with a 
kind of horror. I had reason afterwards to rue this 
first visit. The very next day I was waited upon 
by some wild Westphalians in leather trousers, short 
jackets, and cannon-like boots, in the right one of 
which was the handkerchief, in the left the pipe, 
while a tobacco-pouch hung at a button-hole ; these 
were my brothers of yesterday. They filled their 



THROUGH THE THURINGIAN FOREST. 27 

pipes with their vile tobacco, threw themselves upon 
the sofa, and called for beer. Their visit brought 
me almost to despair; they remained some hours, 
and I had to feign an engagement to get away. I 
hastened to Grios, in order to recount my foolish ad- 
venture and its unfortunate fruits. He very prop- 
erly gave rae a good chiding, and told me that I 
must now bear with patience what could not be 
obviated. Only one resource remained to me. I 
left Jena, and took a foot journey through the Thu- 
ringian forest. 

Five or six weeks T spent in this tour, pursuing 
the most of my journey without any companion. 
There was some fear of meetino; robbers in those 
times, but with the precautions which I took I en- 
countered no attack. The whole of my journey 
was rich in adventures of a small kind ; rich, too, in 
observations of life, and in additions to my knowl- 
edge. I came nearer to the people, and learned to 
love and prize them. I came in contact with the 
most varied persons, and chimed in with the pecu- 
liar tone of each. Meanwhile I applied myself 
closely to my own science. I became acquainted 
with the structure of the Thuringian Mountains, the 
position of the strata, and sought to bring my ob- 
servations into relation with those which I had else- 
where made. I did not seek to come into contact 
with learned people, excepting Heira, who could di- 
rect my studies ; it was foresters and miners with 
whom I had to do. The whole journey was one of 
enjoyment. My mind was interested in my work, 
my system free from disease. Indeed, I have never 



28 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

been in better liealth than when, in the midst of 
great activity, T have liad to live in a very moderate 
way. When in the solitary mountains I have had 
nothing more choice than eggs, sausages, and bacon, 
with water to drink, I have felt so thoroughly well, 
so elastic in spirit, so light in limb, that I still look 
back with joy to those days of vigor and hearty 
sympathy with life. I was in love with the pres- 
ent ; and those dark problems which I had left at 
Jena for future solution looked foggy and forbid- 
ding. 

I must narrate one circumstance which reminds 
me forcibly of Gil Bias. I found the constant jour- 
neying on foot very tedious, particularly when I 
was leaving mile after mile behind me in passing 
through uninteresting districts in order to reach 
places which had value to me. The most disagreea- 
ble thing was the heat at noon. Fatigue, the warm 
sun, often hunger, troubled me to such an extent as 
to quite cloud the pleasures of my journey, and 
make ray occupation seem mean and forbidding. 

I often fell in with merchants travelling on horse- 
back, and I almost envied them their advantages. 
If I only had a horse, I said to myself; then the 
heat might blaze away and I would not complain; 
and even if the first expense might be considerable, 
yet it cannot be so very great a sum. I can take 
good care of my horse, and then sell him again. 
When at last I made my resolve there was no lack 
of opportunities to carry it into effect. A Saalfeld 
mountaineer gave me the benefit of his advice. I 
found an admirable horse, and bought him at what 



FIRST EXPERIENCE IN BUYING A HORSE. 29 

I have no doubt was a good bargain. But now 
began new troubles. When I aliglited at a country 
tavern I had first to care for my horse ; but that was 
a very small matter. When, after leaving a number 
of miles behind me, I reached an important field of 
observation, I often had to leave my horse for a 
whole day at a stable, while I rambled through the 
mountains on foot. Often it would have been con- 
venient to have continued my wanderings some dis- 
tance on these brancjj excursions, but round I must 
turn and traverse again my old track because of my 
horse, and so my ease cost me dear. N"ot seldom, 
in my complete ignorance of such matters, I over- 
worked the poor creature. On one pleasant sum- 
mer evening, as I was riding leisurely along, want- 
ing to enjoy the scenery and beautiful weather, 
something suddenly seemed to ail the horse. All 
my happiness vanished at once. I was full of anx- 
iety. I knew nothing of what was to be done in 
such cases. When at last I reached a village, and 
the horse was led into a stable, I looked at it behind 
and before, but could see nothing, and went anx- 
iously into the house. Shortly after appeared the 
landlord. "On that horse you can travel no further," 
said he. " He has hurt himself, and will be good for 
nothing if you do not call in a horse-doctor and let 
him rest for some days." My worst fears were real- 
ized, and I asked the good man for advice. " I can 
remain here under no conditions," said I. There- 
upon he began to j^our out a volume of assurances 
that he would treat me honorably and the like ; but 
the next morning I rode off on my sorry nag. I 



30 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

will give him good fare, said I to myself, and ho will 
soon recover. But it soon appeared that the horse 
was really lame. At last he stopped. I, an unskil- 
ful rider, could not move him from the spot. I was 
compelled to dismount, and not only to drag myself 
along, but also my horse. I thanked God when an 
opportunity occurred, on the third day, to sell my 
horse for a third of the sum which I paid for him. 
So I otood again on my own sound feet, and really 
felt myself fortunate to be th^e, although the loss 
of so much money compelled me to very much 
shorten my tour. 

I had now given myself for some time to the 
scenery of Germany, for which I had yearned from 
my earliest childhood. I had hurried through Wei- 
mar, so full of interest to me ; had found Jena as 
good as empty for my purposes. I had approached 
no one of the eminent men whose names were sa- 
cred in my ear, but I had seen much. I had entered 
upon a world which was new to me. The winning 
openness with which the Germans greet strangers, 
the confidence which they yield to them, the sim- 
plicity of the peasantry as they communicate their 
joys and sorrows, and tell of the injuries even which 
have been done to them, made me soon feel at home 
among them. I had seen them in many conditions. 
I had become acquainted with the cities and vil- 
lages and charming landscapes of this happy land. 
Olieerful in my eye were the small residences or 
homes of the minor German princes Rudolstadt 
and Meiningen, Hildburghausen and Coburg, Bam- 
berg and Wurtzburg. The castles, with their great 



TBE LIFE OF GERMAN MINERS. 31 

gardens, and the houses of the court servants, with 
their attractive surroundings, had for me a most 
winning look. The relation of the people to the 
princes was beautiful ; in the eye of a foreigner 
there Avas that mutual confidence and patriarchal 
aspect of life which drew largely on my sympathies. 

But I liad enlarged my circle of interest in other 
directions, and especially had become much drawn to 
the life of the miners, whose occupation and man- 
ners were so constantly under my eye as I pursued 
my mineralogical investigations. I soon learned to 
prize their practical efficiency. When, during my 
wanderings into the most lonely districts, the water- 
courses were my guide, and led me to a cabin or 
to an opened mineral vein, where I had to creep 
through the narrow passage-ways, the slightest cir- 
cumstances grew important, and the structure of 
the mountain, the object of my inquiries, stood in 
the closest relation with the task which the practi- 
cal miner had to perform. Here I first learned with 
what difficulties man has to contend when he opens 
the earth to bring forth its hidden treasures ; how 
opposing elements stand in his way; how now the 
friable falling rock, now the waters streaming up 
from below, can destroy the work of many years ; 
how the miner must watch Avith uninterrupted anx- 
iety every outbreak of those hostile forces with 
which he battles, in order to turn them to his own 
profit, and make his adversaries his helpers. 

Indeed, there is scarcely any practical service of 
life which makes such constant demands upon judg- 
ment and care as that of the miner ; and I, com- 



82 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

pletely ignorant of this manner of life, and looking 
at it for the first time, could only wonder at the ac- 
tivity which amidst such obstacles could work with 
singleness towards its mark. The man who busies 
himself merely in his own chamber, who loses him- 
self in abstract i^rincij^les of thought, is only too 
much inclined to undervalue practical life. From 
my own childhood up I had thought of practical 
thins^s as at a distance. I- had looked at them more 
in the light of poetry and fancy than reality ; but 
now the most trivial matters grew interesting, and 
I tried to bring them into living relation with my 
previous speculations. I look back to those days as 
a period of calm enjoyment. The past lay like a 
smiling landscape in my view ; the present calm, 
peaceful, and indescribably attractive. The friendly 
attentions paid to me, the magnificent Germnn lan- 
guage which I was always hearing, the frankness of 
fellow-tourists, all warmed my soul with kindness 
and with love, caused my heart to beat with new 
joy, and made the future look bright and beautiful. 
As I wandered along I thought ; and the more I 
thought the more plainly I saw that the dawn of a 
new scientific era was breaking, and that I must 
give myself wholly to the next age rather than the 
past. Kant broke upon me suddenly as the rej^re- 
sentative man of the time ; the limits which he im- 
posed upon the extent of our knowledge satisfied 
me. I began to see that he must constitute a neces- 
sary member, an unavoidable step in the progress of 
the human mind. Natural science had so much en- 
grossed me that I could not be unacquainted with 



KANT. 33 

the power of the appeal which it makes to the 
senses, and upon which it lays such authoritative 
stress. I perceived it as a fact that the Kantian 
categories in their treatment of space must find 
their perfect expression in the exact language of 
mathematics. But even under these limitations, 
dealing as they did with only the outer realities of 
the world of sense, that which they excluded, the 
spiritual, was brought out with new distinctness, 
and the more determinedly Kant tried to waive such 
problems the more strongly did they press them- 
selves upon the consideration, and I saw very plainly 
that Schelling as well as Fichte would pass from 
Kant, and through the path which he had opened, 
to a higher philosophy. So it seemed to me very 
important to study him. I believed that the un- 
eatisfactoriness of my studies hitherto lay in the 
fact that I had not begun with him in laying the 
foundations of my intellectual development. I 
longed for his writings, I wanted to enter upon a 
systematic course of training, and I was cheered 
with the thought that things which were dark to 
me would be cleared up, and that I should feel 
through my whole future life the influence of this 
new philosophy. I longed to make the acquaint- 
ance of the men whom I should soon see in Jena. 
Fichte had, indeed, been there some time, but I had 
purposely shunned meeting him. The sudden turn 
of all my afiairs, the mass of new observations which 
I had made, and the power which these had exerted 
upon me, had thrown my life into temporary confu- 
sion, and I had not yet wished to meet face to face 



34 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

the man wliom I regarded as the mightiest intellect 
and the profoundest speculator of the age. I had 
wanted to wait till my thoughts were again cen- 
tred, and my life ready to flow in a new and 
unbroken channel. 

In Kiel, I had busied myself in metaphysics, but I 
had not fully compassed it ; now, however, I applied 
myself to it with assiduity and with an intentness 
which I had not known since I studied the ethics 
of Spinoza. Fichte's wonderful dialectic power, 
that monologue of his which presents the Ego pro- 
foundly communing with itself, that representation 
of Feeling as the final issue of this inward commu- 
nion which first sought to establish what Kant had 
empirically conjectured, suddenly gave me light on 
a subject on which I had thought much, namely, the 
consecutive development which goes on in the evo- 
lution of ideas. Fichte's language was at first unin- 
telligible to me, but after I found that the establish- 
ment of the simple idea of self, the Ego, was the 
corner-stone of his system of metaphysics, I discov- 
ered that its study demanded a power of persistent 
abstraction which was not very difiicult to me to 
attain, and in which I delighted much when I had 
attained it. To make the personal acquaintance 
of Fichte at this point was very important. The 
limitation of the Ego, the central figure of his phi- 
losophy, was in no way clear to me from the mere 
study of his works. 

It was wonderful with what feelings I looked at 
the mountains, when, as it were, out of another 
heaven, the sun shone into my chamber, and, as if 



FICHTE AND SCHELLING. 35 

transplanted to another world, the trees murmured, 
and the birds sung, when I returned to conscious- 
ness again after the study of Fichte, and looked 
out again uj^on the face of nature. It was like the 
greeting of a friend after a long absence, a friend 
whom I had known and loved under very different 
circumstances from those in which I now was. 

But besides Fichte, I hoped to meet, on my return 
to Jena, A. W. Schlegel and Schelling. The com- 
ing into contact with such men, with Goethe close 
by, promised me a future whose worth I could not 
overrate. I left the solitudes of the mountains and 
hastened to Jena. 



CHAPTER II. 

FIRST VIEW OF SCHELLING — FICIITE IN THE LECTURE-ROOM — 
LIFE IN JENA IN ITS GOLDEN TIME — SCIIELLING — INTERVIEW 
WITH GOETHE — STEFFENS'S VISIT TO GOETHE — SCHILLER COM- 
PARED WITH GOETHE — FIRST REPRESENTATION OF SCHILLER'S 
WALLENSTEIN — STEFFENS'S JUDGMENT OF WALLENSTEIN — UNI- 
TY AMONG THE SCHOLARS OF JENA — STEFFENS'S LOVE OF THE 
FINE ARTS — JACOBI'S FAMOUS LETTER — SPIRIT OF CRITICISil 
AT JENA. 

A. W. ScHLEGEL had now come to Jena with 
his liighly-gifted wife, and also Schelling, who was 
to deliver a trial lecture in the great hall of the 
university. He had just come from Leipsic, and 
was recoverinor from severe illness. Professors and 
students were mingled together in his auditory. 
Schelling ascended to his chair. He had a youth- 
ful countenance ; he was two years younger than I, 
and now the first of the men of eminence whose 
acquaintance I was eager to make. He had an air 
of decision, I might say, a half-defiant look, broad 
shoulders, the temples wide apart, the brow high, 
the countenance expressive of energy, the nose a 
little inclined upwards, and in his large, clear eyes 
lay a mighty power. When he began to speak he 
seemed constrained only a few moments. The sub- 
ject of his lecture was one which then absorbed his 
whole soul. He spoke of the idea of a philosophy 

86 



' STEFFENS'S MEETING WITH SCHELLING. 37 

of nature, of the need of embracing nature in her 
unity, of the light which would be thrown upon all 
subjects when philosophers should begin their specu- 
lations at the stand-point of the unity of nature. 
He carried me completely away, and the following 
day I hastened to visit him. Galvanism then was 
attracting the attention of all naturalists ; the great 
mystery which unites electricity with it under the 
law of a higher unity was then just coming under 
study. I, too, was deeply interested in it. Schelling 
received me not merely in a friendly, but in a most 
hearty way. I was the first professed naturalist 
who came to his views without halting and without 
reservation. Among men of my walk he had found 
only antagonists, and such, too, as were really una- 
ble to comprehend him. 

His conversational manner was charming. I was 
familiar with his writings, I coincided almost en- 
tirely with his views, and I anticipated from him 
and his efforts great changes in all natural science. 
I could not prolong my visit, — the young teacher 
was busy with his lectures. But the few moments 
which I spent with him were so delightful that in 
my memory they expanded into hours. Through 
my entire harmony of views with him I gained a 
certain kind of confidence, w^iich might almost be 
called boldness. True, he was younger than I, but 
he was sustained by a powerful nature, was trained 
among the most favorable circumstances, had early 
attained to a great reputation, and stood as a 
haughty adversary over against the whole power- 



38 THE STOIiY OF MT CAREER. 

less horde, whose leaders, timid and crouching, 
shrank back in fear. 

I was much interested at this time in the opening 
genius of Franz Baader, whose contributions to 
metaphysics had been printed even earlier than 
Schelling's writings on the philosophy of nature; 
but Baader rose out of the dark clouds of mysti- 
cism; Schelling, on the contrary, from the clearer 
light of scientific knowledge. The night of mysti- 
cism received what light it had from distant stars, 
which only could shine in the darkness, but could 
not illumine our path. But the sun of an older 
philosophy, which set in the time of Grecian wis- 
dom, arose again with Schelling, promising a bright 
and beautiful day. On this clear morning I awoke, 
full of animation and spirit, ready to give myself, 
without reserve or constraint, into the guidance of 
this young man, to lose myself in him. 

After my personal interview with Schelling, I 
went to hear Fichte lecture, who was just com- 
mencino: his course on the Constitution of Man. 
His short, thick figure, with its sharp, authoritative 
eyes, struck me with an imposing effect when I saw 
him for the first time. His style of speech was cut- 
ting as a knife ; his sentences fell like the stroke 
from a razor. Already acquainted with even the 
weaknesses of his pupils, he sought in every way 
to make himself intelligible to them. He took all 
possible pains to substantiate what he said by proof; 
but yet he had a certain authoritative air, as if he 
would remove every doubt by a command, to which 
unhesitating obedience should be paid. "Gentle- 



LIFE JX JENA IN ITS GOLDEN DAYS. 39 

men," said he, " withdraw within yourselves ; enter 
into your own mind ; we are now not dealing with 
anything outward, — purely with ourselves." 

The hearers, thus bidden, really seemed to with- 
draw into their own minds. Some changed their 
position and straightened themselves up ; others 
bowed themselves over and closed their eyes. All 
waited with great eagerness to see what should 
come next. "Gentlemen," continued Fichte, "let 
your thought be the wall." I could see that the 
hearers set their minds most intently upon the 
wall, and everything seemed favorable thus far. 
"Have you thought — the wall?" asked Fichte. 
" Now, then, gentlemen, let your thought be that 
that thought the wall." It was curious to see 
what confusion and perplexity now seemed to 
arise. Many of the hearers seemed no ways able 
to discover that that had thought the wall, and I 
now understood how it might well happen that 
young men who stumbled over the first approaches 
to speculative philosophy in so clumsy a way might, 
in later efibrts, fall into errors which should be 
grave, not to say dangerous. Fichte's lecture was 
exceedingly distinct and clear. I was wholly ab- 
sorbed in his subject, and had to confess that I had 
never listened to such a speaker before. 

I gradually became acquainted with a number of 
families in Jena. A. W. Schlegel and his distin- 
guished and highly accomplished wife, with their 
amiable daughter, were the friends whose house I 
most habitually sought. Through them I became 
acquainted with Hufeland, joint editor with Schlegel 



40 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

of the Journal of Literature. He received me cor- 
dially into his house. In fact, he, Schlegel and Fro- 
niann formed the circle in which I lived. Our talk 
was almost exclusively confined to literary matters, 
the quarrels of authors, and their relations to their 
antagonists ; and, although not a writer myself, I 
suddenly found myself transferred to a field of crit- 
icism which I saw would sooner or later bring me 
into public collision with prominent men. My mind 
was very productive ; ideas crowded in upon me, 
but I lacked the quiet needed to work them out 
and apply them. I studied, experimented, and was 
borne more rapidly than ever along in the cuiTcnt 
of fresh thoughts. Schelling was expounding the 
Philosophy of Nature according to a prospectus 
which was printed and distributed among his stu- 
dents. I attended his lectures; every hour gave 
me fresh food for thought and made my stay in 
Jena more valuable. I seemed twinsferred to a 
new life. The men of* whom I had heard and 
whose works I had read, the men for whose ac- 
quaintance I had so earnestly longed, were now 
my daily companions. The still monologue of my 
life had transferred itself into the animated play of 
conversation ; I could hardly understand the nov- 
elty of my situation. Schelling seemed to stand 
the nearest to me, and even what there was antag- 
onistic in our modes of thought drew me to him all 
the more. lie had advanced from philosophy to 
the study of nature. I now became acquainted 
with his philosophical writings, and wondered at 
the thoroughness and confidence and power with 



GOETHE. 41 

which, even in extreme youth, he handled themes 
which were foreign to the thought of any man of 
the time. He was scarcely twenty years old when 
he wrote his treatise on The Ego as the Foundation 
Principle of Philosophy. He seemed to have re- 
newed in him powers which for centuries had not 
been seen ; he seemed called to the work of raising 
philosophy from the dust. At times I felt too in- 
significant to sit in his presence; but his nearness 
awaked me to new energies and to enlarged views, 
which without him I never should have attained. 
Spinoza roused rae from sleep ; Schelling set me to 
workinor. 

One eveninoj I was invited to Fromann's. Goe- 
the was expected. With what trepidation I looked 
forward to the meeting, every one can imagine who 
knows what Goethe had been to me from my child- 
hood up. 

My intimate acquaintance with Goethe's wi'itings 
had attracted the attention of Schlegel and his wife. 
The^ wished to have us meet, and see what impres- 
sion the great poet of Weimar would make on the 
man from the North. I was invited by them to 
read from Faust, the first part of which had just 
appeared. The book, however, was not readily 
found, and I repeated the first monologue from 
memory. I asked if I should go on, and could 
have repeated a good part of the book without 
help. Lady Schlegel was delighted, and agreed to 
introduce me to the poet forthwith. But Fromann 
anticipated her kind intention. 

It is a peculiar feeling with which one meets for 



42 THE STORY OF MY CAREEH. 

the first time a man who has exercised a great and 
decisive influence on his life. Such a moment 
forms an ej^och in the Ufe ; and it seemed to me, 
as I walked to Fromann's house, as if a great catas- 
trophe were just at hand. Goethe appeared. It is 
known to every one who has seen him, how his 
noble figure, his admirable carriage, his speaking 
eye, the majesty of liis whole appearance, and the 
composure with which he does everything, were 
overwhelmingly imposing on all who met him for 
the first time. The greatness revealed in his works 
was fitly expressed in the man himself. When I 
first saw him I had to turn away to hide my tears, 
so much was I overcome. It seemed as if I were 
looking upon Egmont, Orange, and Tasso, in him. 
In the company was a Mr. Stackelberg, of Liefland ; 
he was introduced to Goethe at the same time with 
myself 

The hallucination that Goethe must have had a 
suspicion of what he had been to me was natural; 
but he entertained himself the whole evening^with 
Mr. Stackelberg. It was not my good fortune to 
draw his attention for a single moment. Goethe 
was then in his best days. The composure which 
characterized his whole manner began to displease 
me, yes, even to embitter me. I was silent, troubled, 
and felt myself wounded. I remembered stories of 
his haughtiness and coolness, and went to my rooms 
in a mood almost unendurable. The northern Euro- 
pean is by nature easily wounded in this way, and I 
have had to struggle all my life with a sensitiveness 
which has often made me very unhappy. How- 



.._ /■ 



INTERVIEW WITH GOETHE. 43 

ever, I got along as well as I could, and repeated 
Philene's words as I walked home, — 

" If I don't loye thee, what is't to thee ? " 

but yet it would lie like a dark shadow across my 
path. 

I must communicate my troubles to some one, 
and so on the next day I hurried to the Schlegels. 
Lady Schlegel was amazed at the bitterness with 
which I spoke. It troubled her, too, that Fromann 
had anticipated her, and she promised that at a sec- 
ond interview with Goethe, which she Avould bring 
about, all should be amicably settled. But here my 
northern stubbornness came in. The higher I hon- 
ored him, the more decisive the influence he had 
exercised upon me, the more difficult I found it to 
consent *to meet him a second time. I expressed 
myself strongly that Goethe must call upon me 
first ; no entreaty changed my mind. One evening 
I was invited to the Schlegels : they had, out of 
pure kindness, planned a surprise. Goethe was to 
be there, and I was not to know it. I saw through 
it, wheeled round, and did not appear in the com- 
pany. Weeks elapsed, and I gave myself to my 
studies. Still I often had a bitterness of heart, as 
if I had lost some great good. The family of the 
celebrated anatomist Loder was among those who 
had received me in the most friendly way. His 
birthday was approaching, and it was the intention 
to celebrate it by a theatrical performance. The 
^' Actor against his Will" was selected, and I was ap- 



44 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

pointed to take the chief part. Singularly enough, 
for years before I had devoted myself passionately 
to the drama, and had acquired some skill in theat- 
rical representations. The stage erected, repeated 
rehearsals were held. I was not only the chief 
player, but the manager also. I took the liberty 
to make some changes in the play, and introduced 
a few passages from the poems of Iffland and Schil- 
ler. 

The days flew by ; the time for the final rehearsal 
arrived. To my amazement, as we were just begin- 
ning, Goethe appeared. He had promised, it seemed, 
to be present at the final rehearsal, but that I did 
not know. After he had saluted the ladies, he 
came up to me and greeted me as an old acquaint- 
ance and friend. "I have long been hoping to see 
you in Weimar," said he ; "I have much to talk 
over with you. When these aff*airs are b/, I hope 
you will accompany me home." Who was happier 
than I ? It seemed as if now my hour of highest 
joy had come. I fear that some of my delight 
appeared in my acting. Here and there Goethe 
gave some good counsel. As I was repeating the 
passage from Schiller, Goethe stepped up to me in 
a friendly way and said, " Select other passages, if 
you please ; better leave our good friend Schiller 
out of the play." All then passed ofi* well. I sub- 
stituted Kotzebue for Schiller ; the birthday festival 
was a success, and I added the reputation of a skil- 
ful actor to what credit Avith the public I had won 
before. 

The day after, according to promise, Goethe ap- 



STEFFENS'S VISIT TO GOETHE. 45 

peared before my house. I kurried down, with my 
coat under my arm, and rode by his side to Wei- 
mar. I stayed there a number of days as his guest. 
Goethe was communicative in the highest degree, 
and this by necessity, because it was his object to 
gain over young naturaUsts to his views. The days 
at Weimar sped by in uninterrupted conversation 
on scientific subjects. I became acquainted with 
Goethe on a side of his character hitherto unknown 
to me. His deep sympathy w4th nature, that quick- 
ening, creative power which appeared in all his 
poems and threw its clear light over all his words, 
became apparent ; plants and animals, and even 
the flashing colors of the rainbow, he could view, 
not in their isolated unity, but in all their mutual 
dependences and relations. Whoever has followed 
the course of my own life, and studied my charac- 
ter, will understand how valuable those days with 
Goethe must have been to me. The object of all 
my efforts he seemed to grasp in a moment, and the 
treasure I so restlessly sought appeared to be his 
peaceful possession. I spent those days in a kind 
of ecstasy; and I now felt thoroughly persuaded 
that I had gained such a comprehensive insight 
into nature, that it would be a spring of undying 
poetical feeling, and would crown my whole life 
with the richest fruits. My previous career seemed 
like a dark prophecy whose fulfilment lay close at 
hand ; and, full of animation and hope, I hastened 
back to Jena to communicate to Schelling what I 
believed I had discovered. But he knew it all bet- 
ter than I, although whether he had then come to 



46 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

personal contact witj^ Goethe I cannot perfectly 
recall. 

During this time of excited feeling, which had 
not yet crystallized into a school, and while there 
was so much scientific and political activity, every 
event called forth a lively interest. According to 
the brothers Schlegel, Schiller could hardly be com- 
pared to Goethe. The latter was deified, the wri- 
ting of Wilhelm Meister was regarded as the deci- 
sive turning-point of modern imaginative art, and 
as the greatest event of the times ; the former was 
criticised with severity and rudeness. I could not 
join in this. The frank, knightly spirit which pre- 
vailed in his poems exercised a powerful influence 
over me, and the severe truthfulness of his dramas 
pleased me much. I never favored the views of 
those men who made nothing of life but a long- 
drawn play of irony. And although I never could 
compare Schiller with Goethe, although I believed I 
could discern a kind of narrowness in his writings, 
yet everything which he wrote was pervaded with 
a crystal clearness and purity which pleased me. 
Schiller had for some years been laboring at his 
great drama, Wallenstein. Wallenstein's Camp had 
already been brought upon the stage, and it is well 
known how lively an interest Goethe took in its 
representation. It was, if I mistake not, the first 
fruit which appeared of the friendly alliance of these 
two great poets. Goethe found in the varied and 
changing scenes of this drama a favorable opening 
for a musical composition to be interwoven, and 
added to the clearness and vividness of the whole. 



FIRST EEPRESENTATION OF WALLENSTEIN. 47 

The tragic moment which causes you to suspect the 
downfall of the hero of the great drama throAvs an 
eventful light through the whole play. It was in 
fact a complete dramatic composition. Much pains 
were taken with all the surroundings ; the decora- 
tions were not merely respectable, they were fine. 
Everything seemed favorable for an admirable rep- 
resentation, and the people of Jena do not willingly 
neglect any such opportunity as this. The more 
cultivated regarded this dramatic entertainment as 
an important affair, one that would give the drama 
a higher importance, and by which both city and 
university would be improved and made eminent. 

Piccolomini, the opening part of the great drama, 
was complete, and would be represented for the first 
time. The excitement Avith which people looked 
forward to this event was striking. The families of 
the professors manifested the greatest eagerness to 
obtain places at the first announcement of the play. 
Through the whole city the people talked of noth- 
ing else. Mothers and daughters intrigued in each 
other's behalf for tickets ; and whoever had obtained 
a place held himself fortunate. Amid all this anx- 
ious striving quarrels arose, which did not quickly 
pass away. I rode with the counsellors Hufeland 
and Loder; the wives of both were with us, and 
Loder's beautiful daughter. So we six crowded 
into one coach, dismounted at the Elephant Tavern, 
and hurried to the theatre. Schlegel's gifted wife 
was left at home. Schelling, too, remained, cease- 
lessly busy with his lectures. I had obtained a seat 



48 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

in Schiller's own box, and made his personal ac- 
quaintance under these interesting circumstances. 

To speak here of this drama were superfluous. 
The excitement of the public mind communicated 
itself to every one. The greatest j^ains had been 
spent in the preparation, the long passages were 
spoken without any breaks, and the by-play was ex- 
cellent ; there was no fault in this respect to be 
found ; all the performers, it was plain, made the 
greatest effort. Every one wanted to earn praise. 
And in truth all the circumstances could not be 
more favorable. Goethe, to whom the dramatic art 
was a matter of great importance, vras himself the 
chief manager ; and his eminence gave him an in- 
fluence over the whole theatre corps which was 
hardly ever equalled elsewhere. The performers 
did not so much fear him for his greatness as they 
respected him for his skill ; th well knew tha^ 
whoever did credit to the staL,e of Weimar had 
gained a reputation which would be known tlirough 
Germany, and that if circumstances should make it 
desirable to leave Weimar they would not be long 
in securing an advantageous position. Enthusiasm 
for a science which was cherished by Goethe's active 
interest was united with a desire to secure all the 
advantages which acting might give to such a play 
as Wallenstein. The public excitement, too, natu- 
rally reacted upon the performers and stimulated 
their efforts. The impression which all this pro- 
duced upon me reminded me vividly of the evening 
in Wilhelm Meister when Plamlet was played for 
the first time. 



FIRST REPRESENTATION OF WALLENSTEIN. 49 

And yet I was thrown into great perplexity. I 
have ah-eady alluded to the passion which I had 
in Copenhagen for dramatic representations. Picco- 
lomini was the first important play which I saw in 
Weimar. I carried with me to the theatre the most 
exalted ideas of what the Weimar stage must be 
under Goethe's direction, and now I was compelled 
to confess that the playing was freer and more nat- 
ural, and that the ability of the performers in Co- 
penhagen was greater than here. I had seen Schro- 
der, and of course did not expect to find his equal 
in Weimar. But what was efiected in Hamburg 
and Copenhagen by eminent skill, was made up in 
Weimar by the masterly management of Goethe, 
leaving as he did not one deficiency or marked de- 
fect to mar the unity of the whole. 

I always like to read over a noted drama if it is 
possible before i. ' T)layed. The reading is of itself 
a sort of representation, and he must have a dull 
mind who is not better pleased with this than with 
what he ordinarily meets at the theatre. Only a 
great actor who is himself a poet can bring out 
those hidden beauties which escape us in the read- 
ing. While we are acting the drama on the theatre 
of our own mind, the personages of the j^lay form 
themselves with great distinctness in our thought, 
and if at the public representation we do not see 
those who correspond to our own imaginings of 
hero and heroines, the impression is only transitory, 
and the one which we formed in the stillness of our 
own study is the permanent one. Wholly different is 
it when we make the acquaintance of a drama within 



60 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

the walls of a the!itre. The dramatis personaB stamp 
their figures so ineradicably in my mind at least 
that I can never shake them off; and so I always 
carry about with me the lank, haggard, sorrowful- 
looking Graff as Wallenstein. He had taken un- 
speakable pains with his part, and had committed 
it thoroughly ; his diction was admirable. In no 
place was there that unhappy false tone which al- 
ways appears when a player is expressing what he 
does not understand ; and yet his figure, his move- 
ment, and his playing, were thoroughly wooden. It 
appeared as if he were repeating a lesson which 
Goethe and Schiller had taught him with the great- 
est care. Even when at a later period I saw the 
incomparable Fleck as Wallenstein, the unhappy 
Graff always came into my mind as his shadow, and 
dispelled the charm. Even Bohz did not please me 
as Max at all ; only Miss Jagemann, young, bloom- 
ing, and spirited, charmed me as Theckla. 

But I soon saw that Schiller, who sat by my side, 
was more than satisfied with all ; he was delighted. 
" By such playing as this," said he, " a man comes to 
learn what his own piece is ; it is ennobled by such 
a representation, and the words when spoken are 
better than when I wrote them." I was particu- 
larly surprised at the applause which Schiller gave 
to a young woman who played the part of Terzky. 
There was, indeed, a certain vivacity and even pas- 
sion m her playing, and in the most effective passa- 
ges she never missed a word ; so far as this the part 
was well performed. But in her figure, her move- 
ment, and her pronunciation, there was something 



STEFFENS'S JUDGMENT OF WALLENSTEIN. 51 

SO mean that she was to me positively offensive ; 
and yet Schiller was delighted. How he, with his 
accurate high German accent, could bear her flat 
Berlin pronunciation, was past ray comprehension. 
Even Goethe, who occasionally came into the box 
where we sat, appeared entirely pleased with the 
performance, althougli he did' not express himself 
enthusiastically as Schiller did. Looked at from the 
point of view which was probably the true one, that 
he did not wish to disturb the evident satisfaction 
of Schiller, it is conceivable that Goethe, after many 
painstaking rehearsals, came at last to fairly wonder 
how, out of the materials at his command, he could 
attain such comparative perfection. 

Directly at the close of the performance we drove 
out to Jena, and, although it was very late, some of 
us assembled at the house of Professor Schleofel to 
talk witli his wife about the play. She demanded, 
in that decisive way habitual to her, a definite opin- 
ion of the piece ; and here the fact showed itself 
that the first impression of a work grasped as a 
whole will not admit of the sharp language of pos- 
itive criticism. Most critics, when they undertake 
to pronounce judgment upon works of genius in all 
departments of literature, particularly when they 
are arranged with a definite plot, are apt to feel 
that they must give verbal expression to the spell 
which is laid upon them. And so, in trying to de- 
scribe the indescribable, the real spirit of the work 
is reduced to nothing in their hands, and the plot 
remains as the only thing of value. 

In this circle there was no great inclination to 



52 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

pronounce a very favorable judgment upon Schiller. 
He barely could gnin justice, not to sa/ leniency, 
and yet the deep impression produced by his play 
had to Gret vent. I well remember how Madame 
Schlegel, after much had been said on this side 
and that, turned abruptly to me with the ques- 
tion, " Have you not, also, an opinion to express ? " 
Schlegel, the most thoughtful one of us all, remained 
silent to hear my judgment. I had noticed a cer- 
tain similarity between Wallenstein and Don Car- 
los. I had observed that the same thought lies 
as the ground-work of each, although developed 
in entirely different ways. I remarked upon this 
resemblance, commenting upon the parallelism be- 
tween the loves of Max and Theckla in Piccolo- 
mini, and Elizabeth and Posa in Don Carlos. I 
criticised the length of special passages, and the air 
of mere declamation which this length must give 
them when spoken ; and I showed that out of the 
same source would spring a tedious uniformity, 
which would prevent the hearer from discrimina- 
ting between the characters of the play. Indeed, 
it has become plain to me since, that this declama- 
tory style of Schiller has been very hostile to the in- 
terests of the stage, for it has not only banished that 
individuality which men love to see clearly marked, 
but it has also produced a theatrical style of speak- 
ing which is noticeable everywhere, heard even in 
the pulj^it, and in the mouths of school-boys, as they 
declaim at exhibition. And the effect of this mo- 
notonous style adopted by Schiller is felt in the fine 
arts, in painting, and especially in music. We notice 



UNITY AMONG THE SCHOLARS OF JENA. 53 

that in these two branches the sharply-defined works 
of our ancestors, and the clear-cut melodies which 
live in the memory, have given place to broad, plat- 
itudinous masses of color and sound, without indi- 
viduality, and as lifeless as they are vague. All our 
hope for the future rests upon the constant dimin- 
ishing of this monotonous declamatory style, and 
the restoring, as Tieck is now doing, of that sharp 
delineation of character which distinguishes all the 
works of Goethe ; that the painters may return to 
their former clear simplicity ; that Thorwaldsen may 
restore individuality to the works of sculpture ; and 
that Mendelssohn may bring out of the chaos of 
modern sound the strength and definiteness and 
crystal beauty which* make eminent the time of 
Handel and Bach. 

What made those times so delightful at Jena was 
the unity which prevailed among all those founders 
of a new school of literature. It was almost like 
the unity which prevails in the organic world, where 
one root puts forth many forms, different in aspect, 
but in full agreement with each other. They all felt 
that they had a common work to do, and that they 
could do it together. Fichte and Schelling under- 
stood the differences in their philosophy, although 
they had never expressed it. Meantime they did 
not see each other often, and could come to no 
agreement. Fichte gave himself entirely to ethics 
and its kindred theories, so that thqy seldom came 
into direct collision. 

Berlin was then regarded as the seat of the lowest 
order of mind in Germany, and was but little thought 



54 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

of. The General German Library, published by Ni- 
colai, the Berlin Monthly, by Biester, were viewed 
as the staples of common-place thought; but yet 
even at Berlin there were men of mark. Among 
them was Schleiermacher, but as yet I knew him 
only by name. Tieck, the poet, made a strong im- 
pression upon me. The appreciation of poetry had 
fallen so low in Germany, that Tieck's first writings 
made no stir, and his publisher tells us that his 
works lay on his counters as valueless as waste 
paper. The brothers Schlegel were the first who 
called attention to the richness and grace of Tieck, 
and it now seems almost incredible how it was pos- 
sible not to discern the charming style and the 
poetical freshness of that man, destined to such 
eminence. 

A. W. Schlegel's translation and criticism of Ro- 
meo and Juliet, his paper on Dante, and the writings 
which followed these, called the minds of men away 
from the narrower literature which had interested 
them, and taught them to use a better standard for 
trying works of poetry ; and it began to be seen 
that the whole genius of literature had changed, 
and that we were entering on a new epoch. No 
sense of the beauty of the fine arts had yet been 
awakened in rhe. I only suspected their worth. 
Lessing's Laocoon could give me thoughts, but few 
definite images. I now perceived what the merit 
of Winckelmann was in opening to my generation 
the resources of Greek and Roman art ; but as yet I 
had seen as good as nothing, my eye was closed to 
the beauty of art ; what Goethe showed me with 



JACOB J' S CELEBRATED LETTER. 65 

80 kindly a feeling could only have worth to the en- 
lightened vision. I sighed when I confessed with 
Northern honesty that a sense of the fine arts 
seemed to be wanting to me, and yet the con- 
sciousness filled me that every man must have a cer- 
tain native power of appreciating the beautiful. I 
saw myself transferred, as it were, to a higher world, 
and it could not be that I must remain a stranger to 
what was in it. As sky and earth, mountains and 
seas, plants and animals, surround me in the world 
of sense, so to my more cultivated and awakened 
eye there must be displayed forms of beauty which 
I could not then perceive. I did not pretend to 
affect what I did not possess, and only looked for- 
ward with hope to new attainments in the apprecia- 
tion of art. Goethe spoke comforting words to me. 
I had never given up the looking forward to an 
Italian journey, but he directed me not to Italy, but 
to Dresden. "There," said he, "you will find treas- 
ures of art which will be ample material for study." 
The honesty with which I spoke of my deficiencies 
seemed to please him. 

During my winter in Jena a letter of Jacobi 
called out a great degree of attention. It had that 
singular blending of simple assent and contradiction 
which characterized evervthino; of Jacobi's when 
he treated of things metaphysical. The celebra- 
ted passage, in which he pleads the right of some 
to oppose the generally-conceded principles of mo- 
rality, made a deep impression on the public mind. 
I quote his words ; they are in a certain way clas- 
sic : " I am," he says, " that atheist and godless 



56 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

mair who will lie as Desdemona, dying, lied ; will 
deceive as Pylades did in behalf of Orestes ; Ayill 
murder as Tiraoleon did ; will break law and oath 
as did Epaminondas and John de Witt ; will com- 
mit suicide like Otho ; will rob temples like David ; 
yes, pluck ears of corn on the Sabbath merely be- 
cause I am hungry, and because the law is made for 
the sake of man, not man for the sake of the law; 
for with the holiest devotion to conscience I know 
that the privilegium cujgratiandi in cases of such a 
nature is the peculiar right of man, the seal of his 
worth and of his divine origin." 

This letter, written upon green paper, on account 
of the weakness of Jacobi's eyes, was passed around, 
and was read by us all in the same spirit in which 
it was written. It was praised by some, and criti- 
cised severely by others, although the time had not 
yet come in Avhich he was a mark for the most gen- 
eral as well as the most bitter attacks. 

What specially characterized those halcyon days 
at Jena, were the assiduity and zeal which prevailed 
in every one ; the conviction that in order to meet 
an opponent one must fight on his own ground, and 
must employ not mere generalities nor happy turns of 
rhetoric, but must use the strong weapons of a precise 
view and extended knowledge. The men who were 
at the head of all had published works whose praise 
was ill all mouths ; like Lessing, they had won their 
literary citizenship by the most strenuous labor and 
the most skilful attacks upon the prevailing views ; 
they were men who knew what they wanted, hav- 
ing a definite aim which they persistently followed; 



SPIRIT OF THE CRITICISM OF JENA. 57 

and when criticism was sharp and close, it was, not- 
withstanding the power of thought, of views which, 
long cherished, had come to maturit^^, and made 
way for themselves. The times were not such as to 
make men content with trying to revive ojd forms, 
and to catch applause by specious show ; it was an 
era fall of young life and untried powers, and it 
threw off the fetters of mere custom ; it would not 
bear the stiffness of old age ; it must be active and 
jubilant in new strength. Men found fault with such 
innovators as the brothers Schlegel, and charged 
them with pursuing paradoxes ; but must not every- 
thing, which is really the fruit of greatness, seem 
strange, unintelligible, paradoxical, to those who are 
simply trying to grasp the scattered details of life 
and science ? 



CHAPTER III. 

WANT OF ATTRACTIONS IN BERLIN — INCIDENT FROM FKJHTE'S 
LIFE — ins UNSWERVING ADVOCACY OF TRUTH— FICHTE DRIVEN 
FROM JENA— HIS ACCOUNT OF THE USE OF HIS SYSTEM — CAR- 
DINAL POINTS OF FICHTE'S PHILOSOPHY — HIS ALLEGED ATHE- 
ISM — JOURNEY TO FREIBERG — SECOND RECEPTION BY GOETHE 
— INTERVIEW WITH MALTE BRUN — GLOOMY ENTRANCE INTO 
HALLE — MORE FAVORABLE IMPRESSIONS — REICHARDT, THE MU- 
SICAL COMPOSER. 

In Jena, Berlin did not stand very high, and that 
city had not for me any special attractions. Tlie 
sandy surroundings, the character of the poets resi- 
dent there, the Berlin philosophy, and the library, 
formed an aggregate which seemed in my eyes poor 
and mean, and from all I saw and heard I had no 
desire to tarry long in Berlin. Lessing, I was told, 
could find no place there. Goethe had a horror of 
it, and, it was believed, had never been there ; all 
my acquaintances thought little of Berlin. I had no 
interest in the political affairs of Germany, and as 
for fine soldiers, having been brought up among 
them, my curiosity had been satisfied. And yet 
there were three men livincf there who were amonsr 
my most intimate friends, and although Jena seemed 
most charged with activity, yet I could not forget 
those three men. Schleiermacher was there, filling 
the humble post of preacher at the Charite Hospital, 

58 



^-V INCIDENT FJiOM FICHTE'S LIFE. 59 

Frederick Schlegel was then there, and Tieck was 
a native of Berlin. 

An important circumstance took place before I 
left Jena. Fichte was arraigned as an atheist by 
the theologian Keinhard, acting in behalf of the 
court of Saxony. This whole aiiair has become so 
public that it seems almost superfluous to speak of 
it at the present time. It was occasioned by an ar- 
ticle published by Forberg, in Nietbamner's Journal, 
on moral government. Fichte took upon himself 
the answering of this article. The whole story may 
be found in the biography of Fichte, written by his 
son. What impression this affair made upon us, 
may easily be imagined. .We were roused at once. 
We believed that we saw in it a protest against 
the spirit of free inquiry. Fichte's conduct was 
throughout firm and worthy of him. When he was 
summoned to an explanation, he answered at once 
that if he were cramped in his freedom it would 
compel him to leave Jena. The reply from Weimar 
contained a reproof for the injudicious manner with 
which he had expressed himself on the most sacred 
subjects, and a warning to be more careful in the 
future. It was, as we saw, the object of the Wei- 
mar court to give the affair a look as if Fichte 
had voluntarily withdrawn. His removal from Jena 
seemed unavoidable. The court worded its reproof 
so as to call out if possible his resignation at once. 
But when Fichte declared that this reproof was not 
of a kind to compel him to withdraw, the court in 
Weimar saw itself forced to remove him by the ex- 
ercise of authority. Just then, when all minds were 



60 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

in agitation, Paulus declared earnestly for Fichte. I 
was often at his house, and it was earnestly talked 
of there whether it would not be a useful thing to 
draw up a petition of the students. Almost all of 
these were from a distance. Fichte's celebrity had 
drawn the majority thither; and it really seemed as 
if they had the right to ask for the continuance in 
office of the teacher who had drawn them together. 
I drew up such a petition, in Avhich Fichte's great 
service, and the right which the students claimed, 
were stated. I carried it to Paulus. He adopted it 
with few changes, and I did not doubt that through 
the influence of my countryman, Malte Muller, who 
exercised a great influence over many students, it 
would receive a large number of names. 

In the mean time a similar course was struck out 
at Weimar. Another jDctition was drawn up in the 
name of the students, in which the duke was be- 
sought to retain Fichte in the university. But the 
petition contained, also, the confession that Fichte 
had expressed himself in his lectures with blame- 
worthy carelessness, and the favor of the duke was 
implored in behalf of one who in other things was 
so honored and loved. A student from Rugen re- 
ceived this petition through the hands of Hufeland, 
and it was represented to him that Fichte himself 
did not disapprove of the manner in which it was 
drawn up. Anxious to be of service to Fichte in 
any way, he sought to obtain names for the petition, 
and succeeded in a manner equal to his hopes. 

I found a young man to whom I gave the peti- 
tion which had been drawn up by me, and told him 



^.V INCIDENT FROM FICHTE'S LIFE. 61 

to carry it to the lecture-rooms, and wherever else 
he could obtain the signatures of students. He had 
read the other petition, and had noticed what a 
different impression it gave. The Rugen student 
was carrying it around, and had already obtained a 
number of signatures, for the students had no hesi- 
tation about giving their names. I was amazed. I 
snatched up my petition and ran around to find the 
Rugen student, who was known to me. I met him 
in a short time on the street, hurrying from house to 
house, and drew him aside. I was excited in the 
highest degree. I represented to him that through 
the petition which he was carrying round victory 
was granted to the opponents of Fichte, and showed 
him my petition, and told him that I had showed it 
to Professor Paulus. I easily gained over the young 
man, and all the more readily when I exhibited to 
him the source from which his petition came, and 
made him acquainted with all the circumstances. 
He was now wholly won over to my side ; he 
pressed into the most crowded lecture-rooms, con- 
fessed his mistake, and easily obtained the names 
of the young men on the paper which I had drawn 
up. On the afternoon of the same day my petition 
lay before me with several hundred signatures, and 
two delegates carried it at once to "Weimar to lay it 
before the duke. Hufeland, the jurist, had received 
from Weimar the one drawn up in the interest of 
Fichte's adversaries, or had himself drawn it up ; 
the Rugen student had received it as I knew from 
his hands. I was invited to his house that evening. 
I found him in a pet, and I will not deny that I took 



62 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

a kind of selfish pleasure in the thought that I knew 
the secret cf his trouble. It was only years after- 
ward, when I read the Life of Fichtc, that I learned 
with astonishment that two petitions were sent to 
the duke. Ficlite's adversaries must, therefore, have 
succeeded in getting some names. 

I expected no result from the petition. After 
some days the students were called together by the 
pro-rector, and informed that, by the decision of the 
Weimer court, Fichte had virtually asked for his 
dismission in tlie steps Avhich he had taken. 

This whole circumstance was of the greatest in- 
terest to me in more than one respect. I did not, 
indeed, see Fichte very often ; my studies and my 
whole mode of thou2:ht removed me from him. 
Yet I could not help loving him, and the strength 
of his moral convictions, forming as they did the 
basis of his whole philosophy, won for him my high 
respect. It was very easy when I was with him 
to be drawn into talk upon his metaphysical sys- 
tem, and even to debate with him heartily. Against 
the rigidity of his ideas of truth I had much to say. 
Even before the appearance of Jacobi's letter I had a 
hot contest with him for the Fiat justitia^ ^:)ereai 
tnundus / this unswerving way of stating moral truth 
was contrary to my nature. When I heard him say 
that under no condition is one right in telling an 
untruth, I ventured to propose to him the following 
case : A woman with her child is dangerously sick; the 
infant, in a dying state, lies in the next room. The 
physicians have decisively declared that any excite- 
ment will cost her her life. The child dies. I sit at 



FICHTE DRIVEN FROM JENA. 63 

the bed of ray wife ; she asks after the welfare of the 
little one. The truth will kill her ; shall it be told ? 
*'It shall," answered Fichte ; " her question must be 
answered." "That is," replied I, "speaking exactly, 
your cliild is dead. I would lie," said I ; and tears 
burst from my eyes, because I remembered witness- 
ing just such a scene, "and I decidedly call this lie 
a truth, my truth." "Your truth," replied Fichte, 
with indignation ; " there is none such belonging to 
any man ; truth rules over you, not you over truth. 
If the wife dies with the telling the truth, she must 
die." I saw the impossibility of coming to a mutual 
understanding with him on this subject, and to make 
clear to him my idea of what would be right in such 
a case. With all the rigidness of his doctrine, Fichte 
was himself the most kind-hearted of men. I was 
convinced that under such circumstances he himself 
would lie, and remained silent. 

I had now lived to see a man whom I honored 
and loved, charged as an atheist, and driven from 
his post. The thing which had shocked me when I 
read of it as occurring in past centuries was now 
taking place under my eyes, and in the very circle 
of my friends. All the recollections of my child- 
hood awoke again, and I asked myself whether the 
charo;e which was brous^ht aofainst the distinsfuished 
philosopher was completely groundless or not. That 
Fichte's system was in direct line with that of 
Kant, I could plainly see. The subjects of sure 
knowledge exist in apparent form around us ; but 
philosophy has to deal with truth. The moral feel- 
ing and its expression, the conscience, are a fact of 



64 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

consciousness as much as space and time, only with 
this important difference, that the things taken into 
cognizance by the conscience are not imaginary, but 
exist 2^Gr se. Besides, it could not be predicated of 
morals that they exist in the same sense in which 
matter exists ; they remain evermore a Thou shalt, 
but as such they are outside of the imagination, and 
have absolute existence. 

I remember well how in a narrow circle of inti- 
mate friends Fichte related to us how his philoso- 
phy rose, and how the first conception of it entered 
his mind. It had long seemed to him that truth 
lies in the union and unity, of thought and the ob- 
ject of thought ; he had learned that this unity can 
never be found within the domain of the senses, and 
that where it does appear, as in the mathematics, it 
is only a dull, dead formalism, and wholly divorced 
from life. At that point the thought suddenly struck 
him that the act in which the self-consciousness con- 
ceives of itself is yet a subject of our knowledge. 
The ego recognizes itself through its own manifesta- 
tion of itself; the ego thinking and the ego thought, 
the knowing and the object of the knowledge, are 
one, and from this point of unity, and not from scat- 
tered elements, time and space and the postulates 
of all thought proceed. If, then, thought he to him- 
self, I can grasp this first act of self-knowledge, pre- 
supposed as it is in all human thinking and doing, 
and hidden as it is in the various opinions and ac- 
tions of men, — if I can grasp this and develop it in 
its simple clearness, and follow it to its last results, 
must there not be displayed in it, active, and work- 



FJCHTE'S PHILOSOPHY. 65 

ing, that same certainty which we now possess in 
mathematics ? This thought struck him with such 
power that he conceived the idea to make the ego 
the basis of his philosophy. In the bookseller's an- 
nouncement of his writings it was declared that 
Fichte would be to philosophy what Euclid was to 
mathematics. I do not know that this expression 
was ever published in the words of Fichte ; but, 
after I had heard from his own lips the account of 
the rise of his philosophy, I felt convinced that the 
announcements contained his own expressed hopes 
of the place which he was to fill. 

When it is remembered that Fichte's training 
was under Kant's influence, it cannot be doubted 
that the master's rigid support of an absolute, un- 
bending morality as a result, and not a means, formed 
the basis and the leading feature in the independent 
action of the ego, and that what he borrowed from 
Kant must become clearer and clearer in the system 
of Fichte himself It is true that in the scheme of 
the latter it always remained a thing unexplained, 
and, indeed, incomprehensible, how the moral law, 
which was only a postulate, having its mere signifi- 
cance in the eflfbrt to realize it, rather than in the 
possibility of doing so, could come to be a positive 
guiding principle, an active thing which had its 
value in its own reality. Out of this impossible 
conception sprang all our ideas. And so there lay 
at the basis of Fichte's philosophy a real mys- 
tery, unsolvable, and, indeed, unapproachable ; and 
it must have been a prime object with him to 
keep those subjects which pertain to the domains 



66 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

of things known and intelligible off from this 
more mysterious ground. And in this mystery 
lay Fichte's God. I understood this well, and the 
charge of atheism, now brought against Fichte, was 
to me a sad proof of the j^oor superficiality of the 
times ; much more insignificant was this exalted and 
mysterious God of morality than that God whom 
most men feared rather than loved, whom they 
pushed away into a far distant domain, where he 
hid himself behind laws to which he subjected him- 
self no less than us. And yet, I said to myself, 
thinking it all over in my own mind, that is not the 
God of my childhood, whom I have lost and whom 
I seek again. 

But it was not merely this suspicion of a deeper 
divine nature which separated me from Fichte ; in 
still another respect we were wide apart. The dis- 
crimination made by Kant between theoretical and 
practical philosophy, the confessed uncertainty of 
the former, and the empty generalities of the latter, 
I opposed with my inmost soul. And yet the world 
contains not only what is appreciable to the senses, 
but also a higher, even if it be a mysterious, reality. 
This latter was lost sight of in Fichte's scheme. It 
was always a sad thing to me to look at the world 
from his point of view ; there was no tree, no liv- 
ing creature, no landscape that he then could per- 
ceive in all its beauty. That the mystery of our 
spiritual nature is not only found in human thoughts 
and deeds, but also in the rich fulness of the imag- 
ination and in the form itself, seemed to be com- 
pletely hidden from him. What. Kant treated as 



SECOND RECEPTION BY GOETHE. 67 

phantasm, to Ficlite became mere negation, and 
•that was everything which was not the ego, and 
in which the ego manifested itself. The fantastic 
image remained, and that, too, in perfect distinct- 
ness, but only to be changed through the instru- 
mentality of the ego into the ego itself. In other 
words, the servant of an incomprehensible law is 
transformed into the Titan of self-determination, 
and even into the Creator of heaven and of earth. 
Such a philosophy was completely contrary to my 
nature, and the more closely I comprehended it, the 
more willingly I rejected it. 

Schelling's system is doctrine of identity. The 
unity of subjective and objective in the conception 
of ideas was more kindred to my taste, trained as I 
had been in the school of Spinoza. 

It was not without sadness that I left Jena ; and, 
althouo'h the tie that bound me to the distino^uished 
men there was too purely an intellectual one to be 
severed by mere distance, yet I felt how nuich I was 
losing. I travelled by way of Weimar, and visited 
Goethe, w^ho gave me a cordial greeting, although I 
thouscht I could detect some embarrassment in his 
manner. He seemed to be acquainted with the part 
which I had taken in the Fichte affair, and the Wei- 
mar court, of which Goethe was a leading member, 
found itself in an unpleasant dilemma ; for in one 
point of view it felt itself bound to favor that free 
development of thought of which Goethe was a 
most distinguished advocate ; and in another point 
of view it was necessary to take cognizance of a 
charge, which was a serious one in the eyes of the 



68 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

duke, the court, and Goethe himself. Through the 
pressure of all the Saxon princes demanding his dis= 
missal, Fichte fell, but his patrons could not disguise 
a certain sense of shame at the event. Fichte, the 
younger, has cited passages from Goethe's Recollec- 
tions of his own Life, and expressions found in his 
letters, in which the perplexity of the Weimar court 
appears, and especially the pain which Goethe suf- 
fered at being a participant in the affair. 

When I left Goethe the whole course of events 
in which I had just taken a part rose vividly before 
my eyes ; and a mournful suspicion that that beau- 
tiful flower, which had bloomed with such fairness 
at Jena, was now to have its petals and its fragrance 
carried away on all the random winds of heaven, 
filled me with unspeakable sorrow. 

I travelled to Halle by way of Leipsic, and now 
passed the Prussian frontiers for the first time. In 
Leipsic, where I tarried only two or three days, I 
met Malte Brun, who wearied me with his dema- 
gogue-like talk. He had been banished from Den- 
mark ; he was now on his way to more liberal 
France, and hoped to find a situation in Paris. But 
his representations of Prussia were not without effect 
upon me. He represented it as a land in servitude ; 
the great army he thought would not only be turned 
against the enemies of the country, but against the 
people themselves ; he supposed that the aristocracy 
would be oppressive in consequence of their pride, 
and ofiicials in consequence of their superciliousness. 
I had heard so much of this kind of talk that my 
breath almost choked me as I approached the fron- 



GLOOMY ENTRAXCE INTO HALLE. 69 

tiers, and my first impressions were accidentally 
very unfavorable. I was shut up in an uncomfort- 
able post-wagon, and jolted till I was mellow. The 
country around Halle seemed desolate ; the day was 
foggy and rainy, and the wind whistled over the 
fields. When we were quite near the city a fellow- 
traveller pointed a gallows out to me. A part of 
the town lying around was called " Before-the-Gal- 
lows-Gate." We drove through this barrier of dis- 
mal name, and traversed a long, dark street, whose 
high, gloomy, dirty houses were most unpleasant 
to see. This was called the Gallows Street. But 
we had to go yet further to the stage-office, and 
my companion pointed me out a second gallows, 
which stood upon the market-place, and on which 
the names of soldiers who had suffered there were 
inscribed. I instinctively put my hand to my throat 
to see if it was safe. I felt like a criminal on his 
way to execution. We arrived at the stage-office ; 
baggage-teams and post-wagons with their passen- 
gers were there ; it was the time of the Fair, and 
there was much travel through Halle. The post- 
wagon was cleared, the trunks of the passengers were 
stacked side by side ; but we saw the custom-house 
officers so busy with the baggage- wagons, and with 
the goods of other travellers, that we had little pros- 
pect of being attended to for hours. I tried to 
keep my patience, but I felt a deep bitterness boil- 
ing within me which I could hardly suppress. I bit 
my lips together, and walked silent to and fro. The 
officials may have observed my humor. After what 
seemed to me a short eternity our turn came. I put 



70 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

on a cheerful mien, walked politely to one of the 
custom-house officers, and asked him to release me 
as soon as possible. He gave me a savage look, an- 
swered not a word, and turned his back upon me. I 
was the very last to be served ; but now my mad- 
ness had reached its highest point. The official 
commanded me to open my trunk, and asked in an 
authoritative way whether there were any dutiable 
goods in it. I answered not a wojd. He repeated 
the question in a loud and almost threatening tone. 
I held my peace, and opened the trunk. The things 
were now examined with the most rigorous exact- 
ness ; clothes, linen, and books were laid upon the 
trunks around, and the examination of my effects 
took a longer time than that of all the other passen- 
gers together. My defiant air had displeased the 
official, and he wanted to punish me. I looked on 
with assumed calmness ; they found nothing. When 
the examination was at an end, I began to pack my 
things very slowly and with great care. "Hurry 
up," cried the custom-house man, tartly; "you see 
that you are in the way." " That is not my fault," 
I answered, coolly. "Aren't you ready yet?" he 
asked, threateningly. "Sir," said I now, "I am a 
traveller from a distant country. I am journeying 
under the protection of my king. I have said not a 
word that could offend you. I carry no contraband 
goods ; my person can excite no suspicion ; and yet 
you have treated me unhandsomely arwd impolitely ; 
you have robbed me of hours which I might have 
better spent ; you have torn all my goods from the 
trunk. Now it is my turn. I claim the right to 



MO HE FAVORABLE IMPRESSIOXS. 71 

take care of my own }3roperty. I must look care- 
fully to see whether, in the haste of unpacking, 
something may not have fallen among the chests 
and packages ; my linen and clothes must be laid 
back without a fold ; just now I happen to have 
time, and shall stay here till I am ready to go." 
The official seemed to have a great desire to use 
force upon me. I assured him coolly that I should 
cany it to the last extremity, and that the least 
violence done to my person would be reported by 
the ambassador to my king. 

Some of my fellow-travellers were still there, and 
I called them in as witnesses. The official walked 
growling up and down. I got through at last, and 
when I left the stage-office I felt like a stranger in a 
foreign land. Such an unfriendly greeting did I 
receive from the country to which I was about to 
dedicate the best powers of my life. 

I tarried a few days in Halle, and confess that, as 
I came in contact with the scholars of the place, my 
first impressions gave way to more favorable ones. 
The new king (Frederick William III.) had just 
taken a tour of propitiation through his territories, 
and the enthusiasm with which he had been re- 
ceived knew no bounds. The universal talk was 
about him. Much, yes, everything, was expected of 
him, of his honesty and of his knowledge of the 
times and their demands. The queen, the beautiful 
Louisa, whose genius was prized, and whose purity 
was" admired, was almost the object of worship to 
the people. Wherever I went I was sure to hear 
the praises of the royal pair. Landlord and boots 



72 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

at the inn, merchants in the stores, every man with 
whom I came in contact, had his word on the king's 
excellent sense and the queen's beauty and loveli- 
ness. Now how diiFerent the country looked to me ; 
how changed the people appeared ; how speedily 
vanished that darker impression with which I en- 
tered the kingdom, and how much I found to prize 
in this new land ! 

While in Halle, I visited the house of Professor 
Reinhold Forster, the distinguished circumnaviga- 
tor of the globe, and the father of a son to be yet 
more noted as a traveller, George Forster. Profes- 
sor Forster had very recently died, and I was per- 
mitted to examine the valuable collections which he 
left, and to use his extensive library. Little thought 
I that I was to be his successor. 

I made the acquaintance of Reichardt, the dis- 
tinguished musical composer. He lived in the little 
village of Giebichenstein, just outside of the walls of 
Halle. The daughter, afterwards to be so near to 
me, was at Hamburg, and I did not meet her, but I 
was often at her father's, where I always received a 
cordial welcome. Reichardt was then just on the 
point of going to Berlin to bring out his opera of 
Brennus. He was strongly inclined to democratic 
ideas, and this put him not only under the ban of 
government, but exposed him to the bitter attacks 
of Goethe, and to harshness from the Schlegels. 
But hard as was the treatment, and severe as were 
the charges which he received in consequence of his 
leaning to democracy, my heart went out towards 
him, and in his house I was always received as a 



REICHARDT. 73 

friend. Reichardt gave me his Berlin address, and 
urged me to visit him, when I should come thither. 
Thus had I, without my knowledge, been wel- 
come within the homes of my predecessor in the 
professor's chair and of my father-in-law. 



CHAPTER IV. 

STEFFENS'S FIRST VISIT TO BERLIN — BERLIN — MEETS TIECK — 
STEFFENS IN A STRAIT PLACE — FREIBERG — WERNER, THE MIN- 
ERALOGIST—LIFE AT FREIBERG — VISITS DRESDEN — THE GAL- 
LERY AT DRESDEftr — FREEDOM OF LIFE AT FREIBERG — STEF- 
FENS'S MANNER WITH OPPONENTS— REFLECTIONS ON ART — OLD 
GERMAN POETRY — DISCOVERY OF THE VOLTAIC PILE — STEF- 
FENS'S FIRST BOOK. 

I LEFT Halle after some days, and came, in the 
month of May, 1799, to Berlin. Whoever is old 
enough to remember Berlin as it was at the close 
of the last century, would scarcely recognize it now. 
The suburbs, the ci^, the people, are all changed. 
I came thither with the most favorable preposses- 
sions, and yet I was surprised at the grandeur of 
Potsdam, and the Prussian capital, and the splendor 
of the edifices. No one can enter Berlin at the 
Potsdam gate and not be impressed with the view. 
After being set down from the stage in which I 
had rode for two days and a night, I thanked God, 
and hurried to the Black Eagle, and was glad to 
touch a bed. I do not know how long I slept. 

I had no address in Berlin ; I knew no one, and 
had nothing which I could use to secure acquaint- 
ances, but the invitation of Reichardt to visit him 
at his lodgings. I did not hasten to avail myself of 
it. The day after my arrival I found a room in the 

74 



STEFFENS'S FIRST VISIT TO BERLIN. 75 

Konigstrasse. My landlord supposed I had come to 
the city to see the great spring military review. In 
Leipsic, in Halle, everywhere, I had heard people talk- 
ing about this review. My landlord was astonished 
at my telling him that I cared nothing for it. The 
regiments passed under my window the next day. I 
scarcely looked at them ; and yet I must confess that 
the precision displayed, the perfect drill, struck me 
strongly. I had in my own land seen armies trained 
for use in times of war, and not for display in times 
of peace ; so beautiful an exhibition of military 
pomp I had never seen. And yet I could not think 
with satisfaction on a land over which such an im- 
mense and perfectly trained army domineered, and 
whose liberties might be subverted at the bidding 
of a general. It seemed as if a nation which moved 
always under the shadow of such an army must 
grow into a shackled and servile manner of thought. 
I tried to get rid of such reflections, but I could not 
shake them off. 

A young man who came to Berlin in those days 
was compelled to resort to a frivolous and profitless 
way of spending his time, such as now is no longer 
demanded. The young men whose acquaintance I 
incidentally made at the public places were not at all 
to my taste. I did not hasten to look up Reichardt, 
and spent a number of days entirely alone. Every 
one must confess that the street Unter den Linden, 
as one looks through the Brandenburg gate towards 
the palace, gives an almost unrivalled view. There 
is hardly another city where so many splendid build- 
ings are crowded into the same space ; the impres- 



76 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

sion which the whole gives cannot be forgotten. 
As I wandered hither and thither, my mind was 
full of thoughts of this new city, so lately made 
prominent in European affairs, the capital of a king- 
dom so young, and which must have such a part yet 
to play in the history of the world. For the first 
time in ray life I felt that I was confronting objects 
of hugfcr mafjnitude and vaster interests than I had 
ever mingled with. My previous life seemed con- 
tracted and mean, and I could not persuade myself 
to make new acquaintances while I could muse on 
the great drama of European history. The very 
magnitude of the city oppressed me. The broad, 
regular streets repelled me, and all the impressions 
with which I came to the city were reversed. 

Of course there was with all this an attractive 
side. Only twenty-six years had passed away since 
the Seven Years' War; it was not more remote to me 
when I was in Berlin than the Napoleonic wars are 
to me as I write these lines to-day. In earlier times 
I had been a great admirer of Frederick the Great, 
and although the French Revolution, occurring in 
ray youth, had somewhat crowded him out of mind, 
yet, when at Berlin, the old feelings of admiration 
arose in their strength, as I looked upon a city 
which was to a good extent the work of his hands. 
Filled with these thoughts, I traversed the city in 
all directions. I visited the Cabinet of Minerals, 
the Botanic Garden, the Veterinary School, passing 
everywhere as a young man visiting the curiosities 
of the place. I called upon no distinguished per- 
sonages, I made no interesting acquaintances. Fred- 



REICHARDT, THE MUSICAL COMPOSER. 77 

erick Schlegel had left Berlin, Schleiermacher I did 
not visit ; Tieck I fell in with by accident. This 
proud presence of Prussia's might was so baneful to 
me that I even felt as a stranger to myself. The 
Thiergarten was the place I loved most; its soli- 
tudes strongly attracted me. 

I was several weeks in Berlin before I called on 
Reichardt. He was very busy. Parts of his Bren- 
nus were to be given as a concert, and he was very 
busy in the preparation. I had heard much about 
Reichardt, his skill as a composer, his ability as a 
writer, and his large circle of acquaintances. He 
had lived at court, I heard, and had exerted large 
influence, rather, however, in favor of others than 
in his own behalf. Almost everybody knew him. 
Every one whom I met had at some time or other 
had relations Avith him. Almost all the men of emi- 
nence in Germany, men of the most varied natures, 
had been or were still his friends. With Lavater and 
with Goethe he had long been on terms of intimacy. 
He had lived in France during the Revolution, and 
was acquainted with the leaders. His strong demo- 
cratic leaninQ:s had made him obnoxious to the court, 
and, having been made director of the Salt Works 
at Halle, he lived at Giebichen stein in a kind of 
exile ; and yet he made his home a centre of the 
most generous hospitality. People spoke warmly 
of the amiability of his family. No man of emi- 
nence came to Halle without visitinof him. Minis- 
ters, generals, even princes, alighted at his door. 
To be noticed by him as I had been was no slight 
honor. And when at last I called upon him in 



78 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

Berlin, I was astonished to learn how much he had 
been interested in me. He told me that he had in- 
quired for me at the hotel where I had first lodged, 
but in vain ; and that he had wished to know my 
lodgings that he might introduce me into general 
society. I could only thank him, while I did not 
say that I had a secret pleasure in my solitary wan- 
derings through the city, and in my meditations on 
Prussian history. At Reichardt's invitation, how- 
ever, I was a guest at a brilliant supper, where I met 
Tieck, the poet, novelist, and sculptor. He was, in 
external appearance, a handsome, slim man ; his 
clear eye full of fire, his features expressive, while 
his judgments, given during the evening, were sharp 
and cutting, full of sense and power. 

During the last days of my stay in Berlin, I met 
with a little adventure which did not tend to ele- 
vate the character of the people of that city in my 
sight. My allowance for travelling expenses was not 
meagre, and it had held out till now ; but I forgot 
to send for a remittance till my last copper was 
spent, and I was in considerable perplexity for want 
of money. I had fallen into the sam.e trouble while 
on my foot tour through the Thuringian Mountains, 
but had been most unexpectedly relieved by falling 
in with an old Norwegian schoolmate. I could not 
hope to be so fortunate again. I could not expect a 
remittance for some weeks. In Berlin I knew no 
one, for Reichardt had returned to Halle. So at 
last I resolved to sell my watch, which was of 
some value. A stranger as I was in the city, I 
might have gone to the nearest watchmaker with- 



STEFFENS IN A STRAIT PLACE. 79 

out being known. But shame held me back, and I 
felt comjDelled to find one in the most distant quar- 
ter of the city. So I walked from King Street, 
where my room was, to the upper part of William 
Street, near the Halle gate, and when I found a 
watchmaker's shop, I went stealthily in, feeling like 
a thief, and ofiered to sell him my watch. He put 
me coarsely off, while I noticed that he carefully 
scrutinized it. At last he named a sum which was 
so insignificant that I indignantly demanded the 
watch. But he coolly retained it, looked at me 
from top to toe, asked my name, and where I had 
got the watch. "You are a stranger to me," he 
said, " and I do not know how you may have come 
into possession of the article." How I winced under 
his words I cannot express. I could not have felt 
more disgraced if I had actually stolen the watch. 
I really believed it necessary to give him a false 
name. But the man had gained his point ; he had 
shamed me into horror. He gave me a trifling sum 
of money, and, full of humiliation, I left the shop, 
my watch gone, and only a pittance for it sufficient 
for the wants of a few days. The next day, as I 
was sitting down to dinner at the Black Eagle 
Inn, full of thought and perplexity, I discovered an 
old Norwegian friend. "Was ever such good for- 
tune ! He had ample means, and was ready to help 
me at once. After I had recounted to him my ad- 
venture of the day before, we started together for 
the watchmaker's. I hoped to get my watch back. 
I confessed that I had given a false name to him, 
showed him my passport, offered him more than lie 



80 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

had given me, doubled the sum, but all in vain. He 
kept the watch. His cold-blooded manner, as he 
refused to surrender the article, enraged me more 
than the loss of the watch. I did not know then, 
as I did afterwards, that the law would have given 
it back to me at once, and so I lost it ; yet, to con- 
fess the truth, it was not long before I forgot the 
whole affair. 

By and by the expected money came from Copen- 
hagen, and I left Berlin for Freiberg. 

Certainly the first impressions of this city of mi- 
ners were by no means agreeable. The mountains 
around had a dreary, desolate look, and the creaking 
of signs, and solemn tolling of a bell in some lofty 
tower, intimidated me. The prospect of making a 
long delay in Freiberg seemed gloomy enough. But 
after I had left the inn, and had found myself com- 
fortably quartered in lodgings, the feeling of dis* 
content soon wore away, and the city did not seem 
so dismal. The new occupation which was to en- 
gross me, the going into the very bowels of the 
earth, and laboring there for scientific ends, raised 
my curiosity, and I hastened to make the acquaint- 
ance of the two most eminent men of the city, 
Charpentier and Werner. I was not entirely un- 
known to them by name, for my paper on Mineral- 
ogy and its Study had awakened some interest in 
Freiberg. 

The Mineralogical School of this city was now 
in its full glory. Werner stood confessedly at the 
head of his science in Europe, and was even re- 
garded as its founder. No one could compare with 






WERNER, THE MINERAL OGIST. 81 

him in the knowledge of fossils, and Linnaeus never 
stood more preeminently at the head of botany than 
did "Werner at the head of mineralogy. It was 
conceded that the Neptunists had gained a deci^ 
sive victory over the Vulcanists. From all parts 
of Europe and America, mineralogists streamed to 
Freiberg. Humboldt, Leopold von Buch, Esmark 
the Norwegian, Elyar the Mexican, Andrada the 
Brazilian, had been there a few years before. I 
found Irishmen, Scotchmen, and Frenchmen there, 
some of whom afterwards- gained great eminence. 
Werner was then in the prime of his power, and 
was foity-nine years old. 

He was a man of remarkable personal qualities, 
and gained an admirer in me at our first interviewi 
He was of medium height, and broad-shouldered ; 
his round, pleasant face did not promise much at 
first, and yet he commanded the attention of every 
one who addi'essed him. His eye was fiery; his 
features were full of expression when he spoke ; his 
voice had a certain sharpness which was not so 
agreeable, but every word was well considered ; 
the utmost clearness of conception and precision 
of thought were manifest in every sentence. And 
with all this he had so much goodness that he won 
all hearts. 

Werner suffered from an affection of the stomach ; 
he was, therefore, obliged to be very careful of his 
health. His clothing was very warm, and he always 
wore fur over his bowels. The climate in Freiberg 
is certainly rude, but I confessed I was not a little 
astonished to find him, in the month of July, keep- 



82 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

ing a fire in his room. He was in all things most 
punctual, even to pedantry. He used to carry fa- 
vorite scholars of his in his carriage to see some 
new and interesting field of inquiries. He was most 
exact about the time of starting; no one might 
come a minute too early, no one a minute too late. 
If you came too early, he would look at you inquir- 
ingly, then at his watch, and then go on with his 
work ; if you came too late, even but a very few 
minutes, you would find him standing on the stair- 
case, with his overcoat and fur collar in his hand, 
waiting for you. I used to be very particular to 
keep my watch exactly with his. I loved this great 
man with my whole heart, and he in turn was very 
kind to me, and cautioned me very faithfully about 
my own health. 

I remember one circumstance in connection with 
Werner which I shall not forget. His collection 
of precious stones was one of the most perfect in 
Europe. In one of his lectures a drawer was passed 
round, containing jaspers. Every one, knowing Wer- 
ner's great care, handled the drawer with the utmost 
delicacy, lest it should fall or be overturned. Acci- 
dentally it was struck by some one's arm ; tlie gems 
were thrown into confusion, and for an instant it 
seemed as if some would fly out. It was an anxious 
moment. Werner turned pale, and could not speak. 
Happily no harm was done. It was seven or eight 
minutes before Werner could command his voice. 
"Do not be offended, gentlemen, that I am so 
much afiected ; in case of loss to ray gems, the 
world could not replace them." The lecture was at 



WERNER AS A TEACHER. 83 

an end. Werner was not seen for two or three 
days ; it was only by degrees that he could recover 
from such a shock. 

Werner's great scientific excellence lay* in his 
sharp discrimination of little points. No one could 
be clearer than he about all details. He compelled 
his hearers to equally exact habits ; they must no- 
tice even the nicest shades and the minutest varia- 
tions of form. Though he did not use mathematical 
formulae in his classifications, yet he had a simple 
way of attaining almost as much exactness as if he 
had used them. His main excellence as a teacher 
lay in his demanding the closest attention to his 
views. If any scholar of his was about to make a 
mineralogical tour, Werner prepared a schedule of 
investigation for him, and expected that it would be 
followed to the letter. Whoever would profit by 
Werner's instruction must be undividedly Werner's 
disciple. The master so bound everything together 
in his system, that the scholar could not give up 
one point without seeing the whole fabric totter. 
I have never seen another man who held others 
in absolute subjection to his views. And he long 
lived to see his authority everywhere confessed. 
But it pained him in his old age to see the sceptre 
passing from his hands and new views usurping the 
place of his own. 

It is singular how rarely men are able to express 
an accurate judgment upon the true place which an 
eminent scholar ought to take in history. Som^e are 
rble to realize the condition of science in times ear- 
lier than their own, and to make allowance for the 



84 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

obstacles which impeded great discoverers. They 
are able to prize at a true value the merit of a man 
like Werner, who not only lays the foundation of a 
new branch of science, but who develops it till it 
fills a large place in the eyes of men. Werner was 
to mineralogy what Linnoeus was to zoology and 
botany. He found all his materials in the rudest 
state ; he hannonized them and brought from them 
system and profit. And even the victories which 
were gained over him were gained by weapons which 
Werner had himself furnished to his antaofonists. 
He published few books ; but he committed his 
name and his reputation to hundreds of scholars, 
who will see that he receives only honor. 

My life in Freiberg assumed new charms daily. I 
had become intimate in the family of Werner's great 
rival, the eminent Charpentier, one of whose daugh- 
ters was married to General Thielemann, of the 
Saxon army, one to Dr. Keinhardt, the court preach- 
er, of Dresden, while still another was betrothed 
to Hardenborg, or Novalis, to use the name most 
current in literature. My relations with the for- 
eigners then at Freiberg were very agreeable. I 
was, indeed, very happy. I bought me a miner's 
suit, and could then go everywhere. Twice every 
week I made a visit into the mines. Werner ad- 
vised me where to commence, and in which direc- 
tion to proceed. This subterranean world had great 
attractions for me. It, indeed, cost me much toil to 
worl^ on in the gloom, to study fossils and layers of 
rock, lighted only by the dim lamp which the miners 
use, and to bring out from moisture and dirt the 



STEFFENS'S LIFE AT FREIBERG. 85 

materials which I must examine. Hard it was, at 
the outset ahnost impossible, to follow the strata, 
and to see where they crossed and diverged again. 
And yet it was, indeed, a romantic kind of life to go 
down steep ladders into the earth, to see the blue 
sky fad6 away, to hear the wheels turaing to pump 
up the waste water, and to hear the melancholy 
sound of the bell which strikes at each revolution. 
By and by I arrived at the most distant excava- 
tions. Strangers who came to Freiberg to study 
were admitted to all the mines excepting those 
which contain cobalt and arsenic. I found that 
this curious life did not lose its romantic air by fa- 
miliarity with it, but, on the other hand, only grew 
in attractiveness. There was, indeed, hardly any 
limit to my researches, for the ground was excava- 
ted for miles around the city. The mines had been 
worked for five hundred years, and old shafts, run- 
ning either perpendicularly or obliquely, and worked 
either partly or wholly, were everywhere to be found. 
My fancy was, indeed, powerfully stimulated at 
Freiberg. When thousands of years have passed, 
what, I asked myself, will be left as a memorial of 
our times ? What, that can be compared with Susa 
and Palmyra, with the Greek and Roman ruins, 
roads, and aqueducts ? Our slightly-built cities will 
not exhibit a trace of what they were, our palaces 
will crumble, and our great factories will as thor- 
oughly have passed away as their fabrics themselves. 
Here and there the ruins of a church, built in the 
middle ages, will testify to past architectural skill, 
but everything else which now looks so permanent 



86 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

will have vanished. But even then these mines will 
testify to the labors of this age ; these long shafts 
will bear witness to the skill and patience and great 
achievements of our times. Such fancies as these 
interested me greatly, and the life of the miners 
themselves had some attractions. They were a sim- 
ple, peaceable race, very poor, and quite happy, but 
unable to lay up much store for the future. Of 
poetic fjincy they did not seem to possess much. 
But everything connected with the mines inter- 
ested me. I studied under Kohler's directions into 
the development of the once rich deposits of min- 
eral wealth. It was plain that once the j^recious 
metals could be gleaned from the very surface of 
the ground. I saw how they had lessened and les- 
sened down to the present time, till at last the toil 
of many days often yielded but little return. So, 
studying into all these things, the desolate aspect of 
the city and its surroundings did not trouble me, 
and, cheerless as they were, I was happy. 

To speak the whole truth, only half of my mind 
was at Freiberg, the other half was at Jena. I 
kept up a correspondence with friends there, espe- 
cially with Schelling, and from him I learned all 
that was transpiring. Meanwhile, Werner's scien- 
tific views grew in value to me. They contained 
elements on which I worked, and from which I was 
gradually evolving a system of my own. I commu- 
nicated all that I thought to Werner. A man so 
set in his views as he was could not be happy at 
meeting ideas which at all conflicted with or were 
an outgrowth from his own. He spoke out his dis- 



LIFE IN FREIBERG. 87 

content, and his suspicion that there might some- 
thing grow out of my system which might weaken 
pubUc confidence in his theories. And yet, despite 
this, my intimacy with him grew closer. The esteem 
which I felt for him as a man, the respect which I 
had for his devotion to his special department, even 
the hope that his own views might be brought to a 
more complete development by me, bound me to 
him, and gave rise to relations between us which 
seldom exist between teacher and taught. And yet, 
such was the constitution of his mind that every 
attempt to show him what I had developed from 
his views seemed disagreeable to him, and appar- 
ently awakened the fear that he was to find in me 
one who would overthrow his theories, and rob him 
of his fame. And such was the influence which 
Werner exercised upon his pupils, that I began to 
be looked upon by them as a disturbing force, as a 
dangerous element in their midst. 

I lived on terms of intimacy with the foreigners 
who were at Freiberg, especially with the English- 
men, Mitchell and Jameson. I was invited to de- 
liver lectures on philosophy to them, and was glad 
to have an opportunity to speak of what was of so 
much interest to me. I commenced my course ac- 
cordingly, and tried to make real to myself, as well 
as to my handful of hearers, the ideal side of philos- 
ophy, to show the parallelism between the real and 
the ideal, and how they are united in a higher unity. 
But I never succeeded in making my meaning clear 
to my hearers. I gained no disciples to philosophy 
in Freiberg. Indeed, that was the last place in the 



88 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

world to make the attempt. Philosophy was too 
remote from the circle of studies pursued there, for 
mineralogy had to do alone with the world of sense. 
The Ensrlishmen were curious to know what Ger- 
man philosophy is, and what it proposes to solve. 
But it was not comprehensible to them. They, 
caring for no evidence but that of the senses, and 
valuing no results but those which are gained by 
experiment and observation, satisfied with a religion 
which has a determinate and absolute value, and 
which lets the seen world and the unseen world 
touch each other, without being in unity, were not 
the men to comprehend our philosophy. I do not 
know to how great an extent the two Englishmen 
at Freiberg were religiously inclined. Upon such 
subjects the Englishman rarely expresses himself, 
and when he does, it is in the most practical way. 
It was curious to observe how difficult it was for my 
philosophical ideas to get a lodgement in the minds 
of my English friends at Freiberg, and how speedily 
they flitted away. I saw that it was in vain to con- 
tinue my lectures, and soon gave them up. Only 
one man, and he a Pole, seemed to be interested hi 
them. The Frenchmen, even those who in mineral- 
ogical studies were my constant companions, took 
no interest in my prelections ; and so I was left to 
study Schelling by myself, and to think of Jena. 

The young men who came to Freiberg from 
abroad used to run over to Dresden for recreation. 
I had once passed through that city, but made no 
stay, as I intended soon visiting and becoming 
acquainted with it. The beautiful environs, the 



VISITS DRESDEN. 89 

charming situation of the place, had pleased me at 
the first view, and I was delighted with the thought 
of returning thither. But I was so engaged with 
my studies at Freiberg that a couple of months 
passed before I felt at leisure to go to Dresden. It 
was about the end of August that a friend of mine 
joined me, and we hired a couple of saddle-horses, 
and journeyed to the city of art. It was a beauti- 
ful morning when we arrived. The sun was giving 
the spires their most brilliant appearance. We went 
directly to the inn, took a hearty breakfast, and then 
hastened to the gallery. 

The lofty halls, crowded with pictures, had in 
my eyes an imj^osing look ; the visitors, alone or in 
groups, traversed the apartments in an almost sol- 
emn silence. I was in a peculiar frame of mind, 
very much excited, and supposing that every picture 
which was allowed a place in the Dresden gallery 
must be a work of great excellence. The veteran 
Riedel was my guide, and tried to enlighten me on 
the merits of the various paintings, but I hardly 
heeded a word that he said. The pictures seemed 
to float before my eyes, and I walked from room to 
room like one in a dream. I wondered whether 
people could see in what a state of mind I was, and 
glanced at them to discover whether I was a subject 
of special remark. My feelings grew painful ; my 
mind was overwrought, and I longed to geit through 
and be in the air again. In my weakness I almost 
reeled. The pictures seemed to be animate, and 
the people around me seemed to be portraits with- 
out frames. Still the guide led me on and on. My 



90 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

excitement was constantly increasing. At last we 
stood before a picture of uncommon size. A wo- 
man's figure seemed to be floating on clouds, and 
in her arms she bore a child whose face was of 
strange and ineffiiblo beauty. My feelings had 
reached their height. I could bear them no longer, 
and I burst into violent and uncontrollable weep- 
ing. I tried to govern myself, for I felt that every 
eye was upon me, and at length I succeeded. And 
then I learned that the picture which had so moved 
me was the most celebrated of the gallery, the Ma- 
donna of San Sisto, Raphael's great Avork. 

We were now in the last room, and I thanked 
God when we Avere fairly in the street again. 

Dresden is one of the most delightful places in 
summer that I have ever seen. I have been there 
a great many times in all, but whether it has been 
rainy or fair, it has always seemed to me to be sun- 
shine in Dresden. And not only is the city proper 
rich in attractions, but the environs are charming. 
You cannot go beyond the walls in any direction 
without passing through places of even romantic 
beauty. The number of strangers who flock thither 
relieves the somewhat prim manners of a German 
town, and infuses a certain genial character into 
the population. In no place could a stranger live 
in more perfect independence of the world than in 
Dresden ; in no place could one surrender himself 
more completely to the humors of the hour than 
there. The English, who came thither in large 
numbers, even as long ago as at my first visit, at the 
opening of this century, used to lead in extrava- 



FREEDOM OF LIFE AT FREIBERG. 91 

gances, and the young men among them acted like 
rude, unlicked bears. Dresden being not very large, 
humors could be allowed which would not be toler- 
ated for a day in a great city like Berlin. It was 
just so at Freiberg. All the strangers there lived 
very much according to their will, while the people 
of the city were subjected to a rigid discipline which 
was in great contrast to our freedom. In fact, it 
was rather provoking, and the Freiberg folk could 
not conceal their irritation. For example, some of 
us students joined the English in having our dinner 
at five o'clock in the afternoon. The general dining 
hour at Freiberg was twelve, and, as we used to sit 
quite in an exposed view as we dined, being on the 
lower floor of a hotel, we used to be amused at see- 
ing the people look in with curiosity upon us, and 
with some disgust at our oddly-chosen hour. In 
Dresden, the ways of strangers were not so much 
marked by the inhabk-ants, and so there was a 
delightful freedom. 

So, with study at Freiberg and with recreation at 
Dresden, that summer and the following winter 
passed away, and so, too, did the next summer and 
the next autumn. It was one of the most delight- 
ful epochs of my life. I had exercise enough for my 
body, and the most delightful relations with a band 
of kindred spirits. I was always lively, and well 
do I remember the animated conversations of those 
long evenings which only terminated at midnight. 
It was a time, too, of great political movements. 
Bonaparte was on his return from Egypt, and 



92 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

Europe was full of enthusiasm. I shall never forget 
those days. 

Meanwhile the Philosophy of Nature was the 
great theme of scientific men, and was awakening 
universal attention and interest. Hardly any publi- 
cation of a philosophical character has been seized 
upon so greedily as the first number of Schelling's 
Journal of Speculative Physics. Out of this pub- 
lication, and one of my own, which came out at the 
same time, there arose a great contest, in which 
Schlegel, Schelling, and I were involved. I was 
most harshly attacked, and was ev^n charged with 
the betrayal of confidence. I will not revive the 
memory of the contest, nor rake over the dead em- 
bers of those times, but I was deeply pained at the 
whole affixir. 

Whoever knows my relations to the literature of 
Germany for the past forty years, knows how, at 
various times, even down to the present, I have 
been the subject of very bitter and envious attacks. 
I took a resolution at the beginning, to wliich I 
have always been true, that I would answer no at- 
tacks which were made upon my views as a whole, 
or upon the stand-point from which I proceeded. I 
am very sensitive, and when I read those attacks, 
they would almost make me sick. I would throw 
ofi" fiery, unsparing replies, and believe that I had 
annihilated my assailant ; but this warfiire never 
went beyond my chamber; it never reached the 
press or the post-oflUce. I saw clearer and clearer 
that attacks which proceeded from a want of under- 
standing my 2)Osition can never be answered ; that a 



STEFFENS'S MANNER WITH OPPONENTS. 93 

defensive attitude is always an unfavorable one, and 
that if a man will lay the foundation of new posi- 
tive ideas, the most feasible way is to go on with 
the quiet developing of them, and the complete 
ignoring of all attacks which grow out of not 
understanding him. All just and worthy replies 
were of great value to me. I quietly made use of 
them. Sometimes, when I felt myself personally 
wounded, but where the assailant was a man of 
large reputation, I have been untrue to my resolu- 
tion, but I have always repented it afterwards. My 
position in literature was, therefore, always offen- 
sive rather than defensive ; my indifference to en- 
vious attacks grew, and, in order to escape the disa- 
greeable feeling which the first moment of reading 
a malicious charge produces, I resorted to a very 
simple but effective method, — not to read them 
at all. As the tone of parties grew worse and worse 
in the German literature, this method became more 
and more a necessity. The rough, unsparing, but 
praise wealthy criticism of thorough scholars, such as 
Fichte, Schelling, and Schleiermacher, the bright 
and cutting wit which appears in Schlegel and 
Tieck, have disappeared, and their place has been 
assumed by a savage rudeness and sly innuendoes. 
I confess I used to take a kind of mischievous plea- 
sure when I thought of some opponent sitting down 
to write an attack on me. He knew my sore side, 
and what would wound me the deepest. "Ah, that 
will sting him," he thinks, as he writes something 
very sharp, and rubs his hands together. Poor fel- 
low ! I never felt it. And, as even the worst side 



94 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

of literature yet brings some profit, tliis style of in- 
sinuating, these pleasant flings, have been a source 
of a moment's merriment to the youth and the 
intellectual ladies who busy themselves with the 
scientific journals. But what harm did it all do? 
Praise and blame are both equally harmless. Who- 
ever has a work to do which absorbs the energies 
of his whole being, is spending his happiest days. 
He can build on in peace, and cherish the thought 
that he is doing a work which shall not perish ; he 
knows that not merely the passing day, but that 
history has, through him, gained new ideas; if his 
work is to him something precious and sacred, he 
cannot only bear attacks with indifierence, but can 
even be patient with his weaknesses, while he seeks 
to battle with and overcome them. I must confess 
that the attacks of adversaries have been in no way 
injurious to the development of my conceptions, and 
have in no w^ay hindered my giving to the future 
what shall be of permanent worth. I hold it for 
true that the power of the censor over journals and 
the ephemeral forms of literature is of little avail. I 
once called it a kind of perpetual slaughtering of 
the babes of Bethlehem to kill the Saviour, Avhora 
yet all miss. I asked the censors to strike out no 
lines in the writings of those Avho attacked me, were 
the assaults ever so bitter. I told them that they 
did not afiect me at all. And in general, I may say, 
what in science can be destroyed by personal at- 
tacks is not worth saving. The diamond must be 
tried by the hammer, and I did not wish to make 
any cherished dream of mine a law to the world 



REFLECTIONS ON ART. 96 

without its truth being well proved. I have dwelt 
thus fully upon my manner of dealing with my op- 
ponents, because it has been my method through 
my whole life. I have never been able to compre- 
hend why a man should take any course but the 
most careful doing of his own work. I can well 
understand how one can feel himself drawn to labor 
on year after year alone, as my friend Schelling did, 
beyond all the clamor of men. My social disposi- 
tion denied that privilege to me. 

Meanwhile the scope of men's sympathies was 
ever widening, and reaching out to all departments 
of science, and to all the forms of poetry. That 
difference between ancient and modern times, be- 
tween the classic eras and the eras of romance, 
which lies at the foundation of every criticism of 
works of mind or art, has received a sharp delinea- 
tion at the hands of Frederick Schlegel, in his work 
on the Poetry of the Greeks and Komans, and is 
now generally recognized. In this task of discrim- 
ination between two great historical epochs lay a 
vast mass of observations to be gone through, and 
to men's minds the results have been made more or 
less clear, according to the time and patience which 
they had given to the subject. For myself, the differ- 
ence of which I speak lay predominantly in the 
strong development of personality which charac- 
terizes modern times, and which pervades modern 
poetry ; and this view grew clearer and stronger in 
my eyes as I began to regard it as one of the results 
of Christianity. I saw that in it lay one of the prin- 
ciples on which history should rest, and that it was 



96 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

but a confirmation of the great work of my life, the 
harmonizing of the effects which nature exerts upon 
character, individual and national, with those which 
all the other agencies bring into the same field. 

I found that the further my reading extended back 
into the poetry of the middle ages, the stronger ray 
interest grew. To the great services which Tieck 
has rendered to the world may be added this, that 
it is mainly through his efforts that general atten- 
tion has been called to the rich treasures of the old 
German literature. It is well known what a great 
interest was awakened by Goethe's treatise on Ger- 
man Art, wherein he drags Strasburg Minster out 
from the rubbish which had covered it, and reveals 
its true beauty. This treatise, and his Goetz von 
Berlichingen, had rescued the race from the settled 
self-complacency which reigned, and set it to in- 
quiring what treasures of art and taste were known 
to a past age which we had always been in the habit 
of regarding as destitute of both. Since Bodmer's 
time, the JSTibelungen-Lied and other works of the 
oldest German poetry had been subjected to pro- 
tracted study and profound inquiries, but a general 
interest in them had not been awakened, nor was 
there a thorough appreciation of their excellences. 
With Tieck I was not yet on terms of close inti- 
macy ; and upon this subject he had not then pub- 
lished much ; still from him had already gone forth 
that interest in the old German writers which 
was afterwards to gain so strong a hold on the pub- 
lic mind. I now began to hear of the wondrous old 
poetry, of an epic which in tragic power and in 



DISCOVERY OF THE VOLTAIC PILE. 97 

artistic skill would rival the productions of ancient 
classic times. It gave me intense pleasure as the 
new world opened before me, and I found, too, that 
the oldest and most renowned of these poems 
I pointed to my own native land, and displayed kin- 
ship with the ancient Scandinavian songs of gods 
and heroes. What I learned was certainly frag- 
mentary. But this new world stood before me and 
beckoned to me as from afar. It lay like a rich 
treasure in my view, and absorbed my whole na- 
ture in efforts to make it mine. 

And while poetry and art were enlisting my inter- 
est more and more, while Bonaparte's return from 
Egypt, his victory at Marengo, his power widening 
more and more at Paris, made him the great and 
towering object of his time ; in that epoch of fer- 
mentation, of excitement, that epoch which could 
be compared with the most celebrated of antiquity, 
I lived in my little circle of kindred spirits, sharing 
with them a common life, and uniting in all their 
sympathies. All the new combinations of men and 
their enterprises did not reach me. I looked upon 
them, indeed, but with no eager interest ; for while 
among things past German poetry engaged me, 
among things present it was enough to observe the 
flashing career of ISTaiDoleon. 

But not mining, nor metaphysics, nor literature 
alone engrossed my entire attention while I was at 
Freiberg. The important discovery of the pile of 
Volta, and so of galvanism, was made during that 
time, and stirred the whole scientific world. I had 
received quite a large sum of Aoney from Den- 



98 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

mark; enough to enable me to procure a battery of 
not insignificant size. There is always something 
affecting in entering upon a newly-opened and mys- 
terious department of science. It made a deep 
impression on me, and the more so because these 
wonderful revelations could not in any way be at- 
tributed to accident. It was interesting to see from 
how slight an origin so vast a discovery proceeded, 
and to view result after result follow in regular 
succession. The pile of Volta has become to one 
department of science what Kepler's laws have be- 
come to another. 

I experimented from morning to evening with 
my battery. Some little discoveries which I made, 
and which now seem of little moment, delighted me 
beyond measure. I was the first to analyze ammo- 
nia ; and it seems singular, as I look back to the soi- 
entific journals of those times, to find that I also 
was the first to kindle phosphorus with the battery. 
Everybody in Freiberg was interested in what I was 
doing. Werner and Charpentier came in to see the 
wonderful thing. At some hours of the day my 
room was crowded with students. The ladies, even, 
honored me with their presence. This new source 
of interest engrossed me for a long time, but at 
length it, too, lost its charms. 

But I turned to still another work of magnitude 
and of importance ; for in Freiberg I wrote and pub- 
lished my papers^ on the Natural History of the 
Interior of the Earth. 

^ Beitrage zuif inneren Naturgeschichte der Erde. 



STEFFEXS'S FIRST BOOK. 99 

What I tried to develop in this work was the 
ground-thought of my whole life. Years before I 
had begun to dream of it by night, and to turn it 
over and over by day. Even when a student of 
Spinoza, the concej^tion of a hidden unity running 
through all living things had charmed me. As I 
grew older, the conception strengthened, and the 
hope arose within me of giving the study of physics 
greater value and interest. For this thought I was 
indebted to Schelling. But I could not content 
myself with the mere abstract thought. From my 
childliood up, nature has spoken to me as if it were 
a Jiving thing. I could even read in it what seemed 
to be a deep process of thought. It seemed to be 
trying to speak out not only what the Creator 
thought, but what he wished to do with his thought. 
In the system of Spinoza, God has his true greatness 
granted to him. Schelling, too, had placed God at 
the head of the universe. I questioned all the facts 
of experimental science to enlarge my knowledge 
of the Creator. I sought to know whether all those 
things which from my childhood up had wrought so 
powerfully upon me did really bear the traces of a 
divine mind. That was the hope which led me on, 
and I never gave up the search. I felt deeply, most 
deeply indebted to Schelling ; but yet it was plain 
that my book was, to some degree, a new contribu- 
tion to science ; that it developed a new, rich, and 
unworked vein of thought. And for it I felt that I 
was indebted to another great teacher, to Werner 
himself If Schelling gave me the grand thought, 
the conception of the Eternal, the One who embraces 



100 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

all things in his thought, Werner awoke in me the 
hope of introducing this conception into the study 
of nature as a working force, one which should dis- 
play the existence not of mere passive being, but of 
will and of purpose to do. This would give rise to 
a new view of history in its relations to God, and 
of what I called the natural history of the inte- 
rior of the earth. It is weak language to say that 
through the influence of physical conditions human 
actions assume their character. Man is wholly a 
pi'oduct from the hands of nature. Only in his being 
this wholly — not partly, but wholly — do we confess 
that in him nature centres all her mysteries. And 
so it became plain to me that natural science is 
bringing a new element into history, which is to 
become the basis of all knowledge of our race. His- 
tory and nature must be in perfect concord, for they 
are really one. Nature's highest and completest 
manifestations are in the deeds of history. My 
book was undertaken rather in youthful zeal than 
in cool judgment, and yet I sought to make the best 
I could, and to keep to my main thought. I tried 
to impart a unity to all being, which had not before 
been granted, and thus to give science a greater 
value both for the present and the future. Not so 
much to reduce some phenomena into harmony with 
special hypotheses, but to unite all phenomena, and 
from this union to find the traces of a Divine Mind 
ruling over and unfolding all, in His own good time, 
— this was the object of my book. 

Men had already begun to feel that science ought 
to be made less dry, and that to accomplish this it 



RECEPTION OF STEFFENS'S BOOK. 101 

must be more closely linked to life. Schelling was 
calling forth more activity of mind than had been 
witnessed since the most flourishing days of Greek 
philosophy. And ray work was published just at 
the time when men's minds were in their full glow, 
and I well remember that it made a strong impres- 
sion. It was confessed that I was not a novice in 
science. A general wish prevailed that I might be 
the means of giving a wider range to speculation, 
and that our most eminent naturalists might both 
continue their observations with as much rigidness 
as ever, and yet with a higher aim. 

I will not go into detail as to the contents of the 
book. Enough to say, that its main thought has 
been confirmed by one with whom my name may 
not be brought into comparison, the immortal Cu- 
vier. Science has made so much progress since my 
work was published, that many of my minor posi- 
tions are now overthrown ; yet the main points 
stand, and will stiand. My views have been further 
developed, but not set aside ; and in the present 
state of science I recognize them, enlarged and re- 
stated, indeed, but still in essence there. 

The impression which the book produced had a 
reflex influence upon me. For the first time in my 
life my fond dreams had had a fulfilment, and a 
work of mine had been given to the inspection of 
the great world. Schelling recognized my views as 
embodying what was essential to his philosophy. 
The influence which my production had upon his 
second article in the Journal of Speculative Phys- 
ics he did not seek to deny, — he himself confessed 



102 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

it. Every one who was devoting himself to the 
study of nature hailed my work as instituting a 
new epoch in its development. Young enthusiasts 
expressed themselves in regard to its extravagant 
tone, and even the strongest opponents spoke out 
their pity that a young man, who was so thoroughly 
the master of the experimental sciences, should give 
himself over to the vague fancies of speculation. It 
was interesting to see the two extremes of criticism 
in contrast — that of the exaggerating praise in the 
Saltzburg Medical Gazette, and that of undeviating 
blame in the General German Repository. Freisle- 
ben regarded the book as a mere geognostical com- 
mentary on Werner's treatise on the slate and chalk 
formations. I had thought, in my innocence, that it 
was something more than this. Frederick Schlegel 
found fault with the want of a blending of experi- 
mental results with philosophical hypotheses. And 
when I saw that his want of scientific knowledge 
denied him the power of combining two things so 
different, it is easy to see that in my sight such a 
uniting of the experimental with the speculative as 
should reconcile all antagonisms, and give perfect- 
ness to my work, was a result that was not only a 
worthy goal for my humble faculties, but even for 
the highest efforts of the most exalted minds. 



CHAPTER V. 

FREDERICK SCHLEGEL — WIT AND WITTY MEN — GOETHE*S COM- 
PREHENSIVENESS — NOVALIS — STEFFENS'S HUMILIATION — HIS 
ACQUAINTANCE WITH TIECK — EXPERIMENTAL PHILOSOPHY — 
RETURN TO DENMARK — LEAVING GERMANY — COPENHAGEN — 
KIND RECEPTION — GOETHE'S INVITATION — STEFFENS COMMEN- 
CES A COURSE OF LECTURES — HIS MARRIAGE — MARRIED LIFE 
AND DESPERATE CIRCUJISTANCES — BETTER PROSPECTS. 

While at Freiberg I took a foot journey to Jena, 
where I became acquainted with Frederick Schlegel, 
who was then staying with his brother. He was in 
every respect a remarkable man, slender in figure, 
his features regular, fair, and in the highest degree 
expressive. He had a very quiet manner, I might 
call it almost phlegmatic. When he sat in his chair, 
sunk in meditation, and was developing a great 
thought, he used to embrace his forehead with his 
thumb and fore finger, and then draw them grad- 
ually together till they met just above his delicately- 
formed nose ; then, as he* became still- more deeply 
absorbed in his revery, his finger would pass down 
to the end of his nose, till at last it lay directly along 
its back, j^ointing into the air. He spoke slowly 
and thoughtfully. I united myself to him in very 
close ties. Although I felt that our views were 
very unlike, yet I forgot that every moment ; for it 
is very singular how near people come together in 

103 



104 THE STORY OF MY CAREEn. 

results which they have reached in the most differ- 
ent ways. Schlegel lived wholly in history. He 
had no eye for natural beauty; indeed, the ability to 
enjoy landscapes was wanting to both the brothers. 
Such a deficiency in two so gifted men was very 
surprising to me ; it was unaccountable. It is well 
known that in Lessing and William Humboldt 
there Avas wholly wanting an ear for music. 

There could hardly be a man more capable of 
wielding a strong personal influence than Frederick 
Schlegel. He grasped every subject which was pre- 
sented to him in its whole length and breadth. He 
could even pass at once into the comprehension of 
my ideas on natural philosophy ; but all his writings 
show that he was unable to gain a full insight into 
the workings of nature. His wit was inexhaustible 
and happy ; and he belonged to those who under- 
stand what wit really is. 

It is well known that wit and acuteness are often 
brought into contrast, and that it is generally in- 
sisted that they mutually exclude each other. The 
man devoid of wit, who, because he is accustomed 
to call himself sharp-sighted, is inclined to give the 
preference to keenness, believes that a witty man 
cannot be acute; and yet it must be confessed that 
both faculties, where they exist in a sound and ac- 
tive state, presuppose each other. Whoever grasps 
in an instant all the relations of a subject and mas- 
ters them at once, he has wit. This immediate 
grasping is necessary ; it must come without a mo- 
ment's pause. It is not the seeing of dim analogies, 
not the conceiving of things in their unity, that 



KEENNESS AND WIT. 105 

makes wit. Wit must see all this without delay ; 
to be wit, it must be immediate. Wit is the child 
of the moment. The difference between wit and 
sharp-sightedness lies in the time which is needed 
to grasp all the relations of a subject. Wit pounces 
upon them and startles you into laughter; acute- 
ness takes them with quickness, indeed, but not as 
in a twinkUng. Wit reads to you as by the light- 
ning's flash ; acuteness by the full glory of day. 
Wit is keenness liighly animated and intensified. 

I learned what I know of this subject, and which 
I have rather hinted at in the last paragraph than 
fully expanded, from Frederick Schlegel, who was 
an excellent judge of the quality of wit. I often 
observed in the course of my experience of life that 
the most sharp-sighted men are the wittiest men ; 
and that the wit which is deepest, and therefore 
only ajDpreciated by the few, is that which comes 
from the keenest view. This was true of Shak- 
speare; and so of the men whom I knew, — Goethe, 
the Schlegels, Tieck, Schleiermacher, Wolf, were 
equally distinguished by acumen and wit. Their 
wit implied their acumen. Who discriminated with 
so keen an eye as Talleyrand, and who was wittier 
than he ? 

Frederick Schlegel could take the highest delight 
in true wit, even if it was stinging him through. 
Flatness was in the last degree distasteful to him. 
He used to say that you can judge best of the grasp 
and depth of a man's mind by seeing what kind 
of wit pleases him. Kant, he said, showed in his 
Anthropology that he knew the nature of genuine 



106 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

wit. And, indeed, not merely in that treatise, but 
in his whole writings, wit abounds. 

Wit is very nearly allied to j^oetry. And poetry 
was almost identified by Schlegel with religion, and 
put in its place. That was only too apparent. That 
is why irony had such a value with him ; irony 
being poetry and wit in combination, figurative wit. 
That serious way of looking at things as they are, 
that characterized Schelling, seemed to the unsettled 
spirit of Schlegel ^ as too severe a matter ; he would 
not confront threatening realities. 

It needs but to throw a glance over the vast scope 
and great value of the efforts put forth in all direc- 
tions to comprehend the fact that no century was 
ever ushered in with more promise than the nine- 
teenth. What seemed to be going forward in the 
course of a peaceful development, could not resist 
the sway of this new activity. All men who were 
working in the interest of science formed a close 
alliance, for they saw that, though their paths were 
different, their goal was one. 

In a period so rich Goethe was seen in his true 
light. The poet had an interest in every new scien- 
tific development. If Wolf in Halle opened a new 
way in the treatment of the classic authors, and 
founded a deeper school of criticism ; if he laid his 
hand upon th^ old Greek Epic and dissected Ho- 
mer, the poet of Weimar stood by with warmest 



1 It may here be mentioned that Frederick Schlegel i8 the author of 
the well-known witticism that all cats are black in the dark. Origin- 
ally it was an ironical attack on Schelling's doctrine of absolute 
identity. — Trans. 



GOETHE'S COMPREHENSIVENESS. 107 

approval. If Gries busied himself with the Italian 
writers, and A. W. Schlegel and Tieck with Shak- 
speare, Cervantes and Calderon, they only advanced 
and widened the studies of the all-comprehending 
Goethe. If the Grimms disclosed with enthusiasm 
the depths of the old German and Scandinavian lit- 
erature, it was Goethe who first grasped the worth 
of their discoveries, and followed with eager interest 
the opening path which led to the discovery of new 
treasures in the past. And investigations, too, whose 
value was concealed from the most active spirits 
around him, early claimed his attention. As truly 
as he belonged to the world of poets, did he belong 
to the ranks of men who consecrate themselves to 
science. But the tie which unites all scientific in- 
quirers, and gives them all a common quality, the 
philosophy of nature, drew him the most strongly ; 
and he could not deny the worth of any science, 
even if its details had not been mastered by him. 
The spirit first called out by Schelling caught even 
those who meant to ignore it, and a new manner of 
speech crept into all the sciences, and it became ap- 
parent to all that those which seemed to lie remote 
from each other had an inner connection, and that a 
close and vital one. So infinitely rich was that time 
that the present seemed linked as never before to 
future and to past ; it seemed as if no epoch in his- 
tory was so full of hope. And I, stimulated on all 
sides, found myself excited to the most varied, most 
living activity. Many things were hidden from my 
knowledge, much I could see in the misty distance ; 
but the vital forces which were moving around me 



108 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

gave me a feeling of kinship to those engaged in the 
most diverse studies of nature. 

In Jena I also became acquainted with Novalis. 
I had heard much said about him. There was 
scarcely a man whose acquaintance I was more de- 
sirous to make. I met him first at the house of 
Frederick Schlegel, in whose arms he died a few 
years after. His appearance was rather too sleek to 
be very promising ; his clothing was very simple, 
and his presence was not suggestive of a man of 
great eminence. He was tall, spare, and had a hec- 
tic flush that boded no good. His countenance was 
dark. His thin lips, sometimes, indeed, ironically 
smiling, but generally retaining a serious, earnest 
expression, indicated the greatest sweetness and 
friendliness of nature. But above all was the lam- 
bent glow of his deep, spiritual eye. He was wholly 
a poet. All existence was to him mythic. Every- 
thing around him seemed to look out from a more 
ethereal atmosphere than ours. He cannot, indeed, 
be called a mystic in the common acceptation of the 
word, for such look from the world in which they 
find themselves placed, into another and more mys- 
terious world where new activities are at work. But 
to Novalis this other mysterious world was home, 
and from it he looked out upon our more common 
habitation. And this mythical element which pre- 
vailed in him gave him an intuitive insight into the 
relations of science, of metajohysics, of the fine arts, 
and even into the character of the most gifted men. 
And so the charm of his language and the harmony 
of his style were not things acquired, they were born 



NOVALIS. 109 

■with him ; and so, too, he could turn with equal ease 
to science and to poetry, and into his tales he could 
so weave the subtlest and the deepest thoughts 
that the story would seem incomplete without the 
philosophy, and the philosophy incomplete without 
the story. Such productions as the Lehrlinge zu 
Sais, and Heinrich von Osterdingen, must have pro- 
duced a profound impression, for the same spirit 
seemed to be native to them which it is the work of 
philosophy to impart after long effort has been made 
to reach it. Novalis used to express himself with 
the greatest freedom on all subjects, and he himself 
insisted that philosophy should have a method of 
investigation, out o/* which rather than by means of 
which he should instruct others ; and in saying that 
he was simply showing what was habitual with him- 
self. 

In large gatherings or in the company of stran- 
gers he sometimes sat perfectly silent, lost in his 
thoughts. His sensibilities were so acute that he 
could detect the presence of natures not in unison 
with his; but where he found kindred spirits, he 
gave himself up to the hour, spoke freely and at 
length, and appeared \qvj excited and happy. 

I saw him in Jena only a few days, but met him 
afterwards in Freiberg, where he visited at the min- 
eralogist Charpentier's, to whose daughter he was 
betrothed. He took a deep interest in the ideas 
which were then filling my mind. My view of 
nature seemed to him of great value, and to prom- 
ise much for the future. What I read of his, what 
I saw in him, what I experienced with him, was to 



110 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

the course of my life what the accompaniment is to 
a melody, or rather like an echo from distant moun- 
tains, which gave back to me in louder and distincter 
utterance what I scarcely ventured to speak. 

I have since then fallen in with men who seemed 
to be entirely governed by him ; men who were 
severely practical, naturalists and experimental in- 
quirers who prized highly what is deep and myste- 
rious in life, and who believed that in his writings 
they had found the solution of the problem of ex- 
istence. The blending of religion and jjoetry in the 
writings of Novalis was to them the utterance of 
an oracle, and in those writings they profess to have 
found the same strengthening and comfort which 
Christians find in the Bible. 

In truth, Novalis was religious in the deepest 
sense. It is well known that from his pen have 
come hymns which belong to the noblest that the 
church of Christ possesses. He had, as is well 
known, a strong leaning towards Catholicism, and 
he has done more, perhaps, than any other to lead 
youth to that form of faith. ISTotwith standing the 
publication of his defence of the Jesuits, I feel per- 
suaded that he was a firm believer in man's moral 
freedom, and in salvation through grace, the grand 
'principle of the Protestant church. 

No other one has ever been to me in things re- 
ligious Avhat Novalis was. The deep and earnest 
faith which had been brought home to me in my 
childhood began to revive again while I was with 
him, and entered into all my inquiries, taking the 



ST£FF£XS'S HUMILIATION. Ill 

first place there, and demanding to be made the 
basis of all my work in life. 

Before I go on to speak of the eminent men whom 
it has been my privilege to know, I have one or two 
confessions to make to the reader. It was about the 
time of which I am now writing that I discovered 
that passions which I despised in others I was in 
no wise free from. On a geological torn- I hap- 
pened to come to Carlsbad. Games of hazard were 
strictly forbidden there, yet they were played in se- 
cret, and in some way, which I do not now remem- 
ber, I found myself one evening in the gambling- 
room. I saw men at the faro-table who evidently 
belonged to the better class. The varying passions 
of the. players interested me, yet I thought that.if I 
were in their place I could command myself as they 
could not. I will play a little, I thought, afld when 
I gain or lose a few pieces I will stop. Those fierce 
passions which I saw displayed around me I cer- 
tainly could not have. So I began, as everybody 
does, with the smallest sum. I was successful. I 
doubled it ; fortunate again. I still increased, and 
still had the winning side ; and so I played till far 
into the night, and gained a not inconsiderable sum. 
I can remain here a number of days, I thought. 
The next eveninoj found me asrain at the faro-table. 
My fortune remained true to me, and I stayed three 
weeks there, and was constantly successful. I did 
not have great and bewildering strokes of fortune, 
but still my gains were constantly growing, and 
every addition to them delighted me. There is 
something bewitching in the game. The intricate 



112 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

combinations set the whole imagination in activity. 
We dream that behind the arbitrary cast some mys- 
terious power is at work, which once enlisted on our 
side will always remain true to us. The great sums 
of money which lie upon the open table and pass to 
and fro, make us forget the value which we else- 
where, in common life, put upon it. A gold piece 
there is nothing. We seen;L to be masters of gi- 
gantic fortunes, and we act as if we were dealing 
with the fabulous treasures which we conjure up in 
our dreams. It is a strange, dark, fearful figure, the 
goddess of the gambling-table, which at first makes 
us shudder, and seduces us away and holds us fast. 

At other places I was accustomed to meet with 
mei>, as my associates, who were wholly busied with 
intellectual pursuits. Among these men were some 
of the noblest spirits of the age. A dim remem- 
brance of this followed me, and at last it became a 
constant torment ; but it called me to myself I 
asked myself, Who are my companions now? Pseu- 
do-ofiicers, needy adventurers, were the ones who 
had found in me a friend. I thought with a shud- 
der on the blaze appearance, the indifference which 
they expressed about anything noble or holy, the 
dreadful levity with which they looked upon every- 
thing which I valued, — and yet I had been living 
for three weeks in the society of these men. IIow 
common they seemed to me now! How shameful I 
felt in my degradation. Tears started from my eyes. 
I leaped up at once, — it was in tlie night, — ordered 
a post-chaise, and hurried from the place, and from 
that time to this I have not been within a gambling- 



STEFFEXS'S HU MIL I ATI OX. IIB 

room. In flight was my only security, but I was 
happily saved just in time. 

But I was not yet out of trouble. I still had the 
money which I had gained, but it was my curse. At 
Kostritz I stopped at an inn where was tarrying a 
company of strolling actors. There were not many 
guests, and so I became quite intimate with them. 
My money went freely for wine and costly enter- 
tainments. My usual sense seemed to hare been 
taken from me, and one day I descended to the 
step of proposing to join them as a fellow-actor. 
They were delighted, and applauded my resolution 
to the echo. I remained with them for days, utterly 
insensible to the meanness of my company, till at 
last the happy thought occurred to me that by and 
by the name of Dr. Steffens, the strolling actor, 
would get to Denmark, and be even heard in Co- 
penhagen. I tried to fancy the emotions which such 
an event would awaken, and I was a second time 
shamed into sense asrain. Meantime I had whistled 
my money all awaj\ I was ready to start on my 
journeys again, a wiser if a poorer man. 

I allude to this humbling of my confidence in 
myself, merely to paint anew the moral of a tale 
which win be repeated to the end of time, namely, 
that no youth of spirit is safe in tampering with 
tools which thousands of men as wise and strong as 
he have turned to their own destruction. And now 
I go on with the story of my life. 

I returned to Dresden, where I met Tieck, the 
poet, novelist, and sculptor, and became acquainted 
with his family. He was then living in Dresden. 



114 TUE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

Tieck was of my age, twenty-eiglit years. He was 
tall, spare, and handsome, while his eyes were of 
wonderful clearness and power. In all his move- 
ments there was grace and delicacy; his manner of 
speaking exactly corresponded to his bearing. He 
wrote hardly more beautifully than he spoke. It is 
not alone the clearness with which he grasps every 
subject which he handles that charms us, it is the 
harmonious roundness of his style which has such 
irresistible fascination. In talking, his manner was 
to carefully grasp his theme, and then to develop it 
on every side, yet with a restrained enthusiasm, 
through which his language caught a warmth which 
seemed to come rather from the subject of conver- 
sation than from the man who talked. He himself 
has told me that when, in the higher circles, he has 
been compelled to listen to a depreciation of what is 
noblest in poetry, — when, for example, he has heard 
scorn thrown on the chief excellences in Goethe, — 
he has felt himself as one transformed. Such indig- 
nation was fired in him that he would turn pale ; 
but he had such command of himself that in cir- 
cumstances where I should have answered in heat, 
he could keep perfect silence. And such was the 
effect of this in Tieck, that I have seen his most 
bitter enemies entirely disarmed by his significant 
silence. And I venture to assert, gentle and ap- 
proachable as he was to all, he has, by his bearing 
when in society, exercised even a stronger influence 
than by his writings. What he was to me, during 
an intimacy continued for many years, and under 



CHARACTER OF TIECK. 115 

the most varied circumstances, and in spite of broad 
differences of opinion, I cannot easily express. 

Tieck was remarkable for his talent in mimicry. 
Had he been trained for the stage, he would have 
been the greatest actor of his time ; and even in his 
old age, when, chained to his chair by the gout, he 
read a play to a few friends, it was so real, that 
what we might see at the theatre appeared frigid 
and dull, while the true genius of the drama seemed 
to be before us. 

I have seen him, on the birthday of his wife, 
extemporize a play, and take every part himself, 
assuming characters as far apart as a man and an 
ourang-outang, and while his audience was con- 
vulsed with laughter, he was true to his plot and 
to all the minutiae of expression and of feature. I 
could scarcely credit my eyes at so remarkable a 
display of histrionic talent. 

Frederick Schlegel was then in Dresden, and for 
months I lived in daily intercourse with him and 
with Tieck. How rich that season was to me it is 
hard to say, for the influence of a man like Schlegel 
cannot be measured as an abstract thing ; it is not 
merely a communicable quality, it works powerfully 
upon the whole nature. We do not feel ourselves 
fettered by his presence, but rather quickened by 
it; our brightest thoughts are then stimulated into 
being, and the more powerful the mind which is ex- 
erting this influence over us, the more free seems to 
be the motion of our own mind. In the comj3anion- 
ship of Schlegel and Tieck I began to understand 
the fine arts. I learned how to trace the primitive 



116 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

conception in the elaborate and finished work, the 
simple in the complex and modish, the nature of 
true art in the perversions of the schools. The 
great political epochs of the Italians, the Spanish, 
the English, and the Germans, were brought near to 
me. I was even transferred to their midst. I en- 
joyed the past as if it were the present, and every 
day brought me new delights. 

Those were all golden moments. I had now been 
a long time in Germany, and had traversed it in all 
directions. The ease with which I made acquaint- 
ances, and the readiness with which I sympathized 
with their joys and troubles, had made the circle of 
ray friendships very large. In Dresden, hardly a 
day passed in which I did not meet with some old 
acquaintance, with whom I could talk over past 
times and enjoy a cheerful hour in the present. 
I learned during these delightful months what a 
charm there is in living a life of perfect freedom 
from care, and yet a life rich in adventure, where I 
could explore any department of knowledge that 
I wished, and could link myself to every good and 
noble object. And at the close of the year, when I 
looked back upon it, it seemed to belong among the 
choicest that I had lived. It had another value, 
too, besides those which I have already mentioned. 
Reich ardt's daughter, then seventeen years of age, 
came to Dresden, to visit her aunt, Tieck's wife. 
To what this acquaintance led will be seen in the 
sequel. 

I had dedicated my collection of papers to Goethe. 
On account of this I had to endure a great deal 



EXPERIMENTAL PHILOSOPHY. 117 

from Frederick Schlegel. The Delphian Temple of 
Pligher Poesy, to which I had consecrated my book, 
gave him occasion for a great deal of ridicule. As 
there was much said in it of the essential oneness of 
all metals, he insisted that I ought to have subscribed 
myself as minister extraordinary of metallics, and 
privy counsellor of the metals. But Goethe took 
a warm interest in my production. He wrote me a 
long letter, and what interested me especially in it 
was, his telling me that he had tried the experi- 
ment with a French naturalist, whether he were 
able to follow the whole course of my observa- 
tions, and to bring the metals of which I spoke 
into important relations with each other, and into 
real unity, Goethe was convinced that the French- 
man would make nothing of it. The gift of tracing 
such things he insisted was wholly wanting to the 
French mind, and he foresaw exactly what kind of 
a reception writings such as mine would receive in 
France ; and not in France alone, but among all 
those naturalists of Germany whose method is only 
experimental. And I have experienced all my life 
what he distinctly foresaw, and if some view of mine 
has gained acceptance in one quarter or another, yet 
the spirit which lay at the base of all my results has 
not been appreciated. Yet my great admiration of 
natural science, my iAterest in their discoveries, my 
joy at their progress, have always been great. I 
have known enough to bear always in mind that 
natural science can stand on its own foundation. 
I have been separated from empirical naturalists 
through the diversity of our principles of research, 



118 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

yet the object studied is the same to us both, and 
many ties still connect us in our inquiries. Often 
have I had occasion to say in my arguments with 
distinguished physicists, who confessed that they 
could not understand tlie drift of my thoughts, that 
I enjoyed a double advantage, in that the enjoy- 
ment of their discoveries was not denied to me, and 
their progress a source of joy to me, while from 
their results a pleasure was granted to me which 
was not even granted to those who had gained 
them. I never underrated their results, but as they 
were purely the issues of exiDcriments, they who 
gained them could not always see in them the 
workings of great and universal laws. 

And now it was time for me to be thinkino: of 
home. I had an account to render in Denmark for 
the months spent in Germany. It was, indeed, hard 
to leave a land which I had learned to love so much, 
and turn away from friends who had become so dear 
to me. But just then, while I was thinking of my 
journey homeward, I received an invitation to ac- 
cept a professorship of mineralogy in Ireland. It 
was procured for me through the agency of Mitchel, 
a fellow-student at Freiberg. It was a very attrac- 
tive offer ; the salary seemed very large to me, and 
Ireland was as yet an unexplored field. But my 
want of English was in my e^es a good reason for 
not accepting the offer. I read it, indeed, with 
ease, but I have never mastered its pronunciation. 
Mitchel insisted, however, that three months in an 
English family would remedy that defect. 

This unexpected invitation was, of course, taken 



LEAVIXG GERMAXT. 119 

into most careful consideration. But at last my 
affection to my native land prevailed, and I came to 
the conclusion that I owed my service to her. I 
refused the invitation, and so changed the whole 
future of my life. 

So I turned my steps towards the home of my 
childhood. What my career there would be could 
not clearly be foretold. I hoped to give philosophi- 
cal lectures in Copenhagen. I had intended, when 
I left Denmark, to extend my travels to Italy, 
France, and England, and yet I had confined my- 
self to Jena, Weimar, Freiberg, and Dresden. In 
this limited region, I had met the objects of my 
highest admiration ; here my thoughts had found 
rich soil from which to grow. I could not think 
without sadness of leaving a country which had 
become so full of interest to me. Even the lan- 
guage, the repository of pure thoughts, had an end- 
less charm to me, and a wonderful harmony. No 
other tongue seemed to me to speak out so well 
the emotions of the soul, no other to present the 
most sharply-defined thoughts, the most lofty poet- 
ry. Yet, sad as was the leaving of Germany, the 
thought of home was cheering. I was wholly a 
Dane. The great purpose of my life was to be use- 
ful to my country. And so I turnect my back upon 
beautiful Dresden, bade adieu to my many friends, 
and started northward, going by Jena and Halle. 
At Jena, I found Schelling and Hegel united in a 
common task, and on terms of close intimacy, and I 
could not part without tears from the one of these 
two men whose genius had summoned me to Ger- 



120 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

many, and had given a new direction to my life. 
Schelling, too, was sensibly moved. At Halle I 
was taken into Reichardt's family as an intimate 
friend, and there was betrothed to the daughter, 
with the understanding that in one year I should 
return and claim her as my wife. After a few happy 
days at Halle, I again set my steps towards home ; 
reached Lubeck, and took the packet for Copen- 
hagen. 

Few men have enjoyed a happier youth than I. 
I was now in ray thirtieth year, and if I deduct two 
vsad twelvemonths, the rest had flown by in un- 
broken quiet. I do not remember that ever in all 
that time I had one anxious thought about the 
future. The present was rich in happiness, and I 
did not despise the joys of the hour. I was com- 
pletely my own master, independent in the full 
sense of the word. Every one who met me was 
friendly. I stood in no man's way, and few had 
occasion to look on me with envy. I expected, in- 
deed, sooner or later, to have my share of trouble ; 
but of the calamities which at length drove me 
from my native land, no glimpse yet appeared. I 
went home at a very critical time in the history 
of Denmark. It was just after the English inva- 
sion, and the attack on Copenhagen. The whole 
city, at the time I arrived, was just becoming tran- 
quil after the intense excitement of the battle, and 
I, who expected to entertain rather than to be en- 
tertained, was glad to listen day after day to stories 
of the Danish valor, and the various occurrences 
incident to so startling: an event. All that I had 



STEFFENS'S KIND RECEPTION. 121 

seen sunk into insignificance compared with what 
had been witnessed at home. But by and by 
the excitement wore away, and common interests 
crowded forward again and claimed attention. 

The events which had taken place in my life while 
in Germany, exercised an influence upon my pros- 
pects at home. Count Schimmelmann received me 
with the same cordiality which he had showed me 
before my departure. It was a great advantage to 
enjoy the favor of a man who had such control of the 
finances of the kingdom, and who was so enlight- 
ened a scholar and so constant a patron of science. 
I told him of my call to Ireland, and of my refusal 
to accept it, and he thereupon granted me a pen- 
sion ample for my support as long as I was unmar- 
ried, with the promise that it should be more than 
doubled after my marriage. He allowed me also to 
select my own department of labor. I then showed 
him what was the course which I had marked out 
for myself It was merely to give public lectures 
on philosophy and on geognosy. My object was to 
make these subjects as attractive as possible, and to 
attach my hearers to myself, and especially such as 
would hereafter be government officials or ministers 
in the desolate villages of Norway. I thought that 
I should thus be opening resources to them which 
should give them a never-failing subject of interest 
in the scenes of their future labors. 

The plan pleased the Count, who praised its sim- 
plicity. And after this my relations with him grew 
more intimate, and had I depended upon him alone 
I should never have left Denmark. 



122 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

If I was made happy by the kindness of Schim- 
melmann, my joy was not lessened by a letter 
which I soon received from Goethe. It was the 
intention of the literary circle to which I was so 
closely bound, to establish a Review at Jena, to 
which Goethe, Schleiermacher, Tieck, Schlegel, and 
Schelling, should be the chief contributors. It was 
to be based on the metaphysical system of the last ' 
named, and was to be mainly devoted to a connect- 
ing of Schelling's philosophy with the literature of 
the day. And Goethe's object in writing to me was 
to propose that I should contribute a critical sum- 
mary of that philosophy to the first number of the 
Review. I confess that I was equally sui-prised and 
gratified at the invitation. Unquestionably it was 
extended through Schelling's influence, and that 
was a touching proof of the confidence which he 
had in my mastery of his system ; but, despite all 
this, I had to decline the request. The fall was 
approaching, and it was necessary for me to give 
my whole time to the prejDaration of my course of 
lectures. I was going to do my own work in Co- 
penhagen well, and the preparing of an article which 
should be worthy of the subject would demand time 
which I could not give. 

But there soon began to appear a disagreeable 
side to my life. If I could look to Count Schim- 
melmann for countenance and support, there was 
another high ofiicial from whom I expected nothing 
but opposition. This was the Duke of Augusten- 
burg, brother of the king. He was wholly in the 
interest of the conservative party ; he looked with 



^A^ ANNOYANCE. 123 

special distrust at the new philosophy of Germany, 
and spoke of it with great contempt. A reaction- 
ary Review at Berlin, Nicolai's, noticed for its hos- 
tility to the Weimar and Jena school, attacked me 
in a violent and abusive way, not only charging me 
with adopting a foolish philosophical system, but, 
what was more painful to my feelings, with taking 
money which the Danish government granted to 
me for geognostical studies, and applying it to 
uses so variant from this as the sustaining of tran- 
scendental philosophers. Nicolai's Review was read 
at Copenhagen, and the article was shown to the 
Duke of Augustenburg. He summoned me to him, 
and showed me very plainly that I need hereafter 
expect no help from him. In his eyes it was a 
serious matter that I had been attacked by Nicolai. 
And I could not persuade him that it was solely 
provoked by the hostility of the publisher, not to 
myself, but to Schelling and Goethe. 

The summer wore away. I worked hard at my 
lectures, and went much into society, yet I hardly 
knew that I was the subject of much town talk. 
There was then a general dislike to everything Ger- 
man. I was often spoken of as the German doctor. 
Once a Dane came to me and asked me why I had 
not published my geognostical work in my mother 
tongue. I replied by asking him if he would be re- 
sponsible for the cost of publication in Danish. 

I soon found that tlie conservatives were hard at 
work against me. Charges were brought that I was 
trying to supersede older men, and supplant their 
systems by my own. " We have Prof Riisbrigh," 



124 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

they said, " .and what more can we ask?" The most 
foolish allecfations were made about me. It was 
currently reported that I had asserted that I could 
not think in Danish. As I walked along the streets 
I could hear people whisper, " There goes the young 
man who, after he has been two years in Germany, 
can't think in his mother tongue." I laughed at all 
this, until at last a note came from Count Schira- 
melmann cautioning me on being guarded in my 
expressions, and telling me that he had heard the 
rumor above mentioned. 

I must confess that a certain sense of pride which 
I felt may have exhibited itself in ray bearing, and 
may have stirred up people to circulate such unjust 
reports and feel ill-will. I remember that a rich 
gentleman came to me one day, and asked me to 
give him instruction in the German philosophy. I 
knew the man well, and was aware that he was en- 
tirely unable to comprehend a single philosophical 
idea. When he had made the proposal, I said, " Be- 
fore we come to any arrangement I must inform you 
of the plan which I have adopted with regard to 
compensation. The sum which I receive depends 
entirely upon the aptitude of the learner, and the 
advantage which he receives from my instructions, 
with this important consideration, that the money 
received is in inverse ratio to the good conferred. 
The more he learns, the less I receive. Whoever 
entirely follows my thoughts, and grasps the whole 
subject, will not owe me anything; but the man who 
has the misfortune not to understand a word, can- 
not adequately pay me for my trouble." Of course 



STEFFEN'S'S LECTURES AT COPENEAGENx 125 

he took umbrage, and did not renew the proposal ; 
and it may be readily imagined that my trifling 
added him to the number of my opponents. 

My lectures began in October, 1803. They were 
open to the public, of course. I was in high spirits. 
"What had been in my youth the secret of ray own 
soul, cherished, but never expressed, the subject 
which fascinated me while it yet repelled me, was 
now to be brought by me to the minds of men, and 
to become the theme of my daily instructions. I 
knew the strength of my adversaries. I was confi- 
dent of my own powers, but I did not stop to ask 
whether the contest which was before me was worth 
the pains of the battle. I felt no downcast fear as 
to the issue. I knew, indeed, that, supported by a 
band of young adherents, I must encounter the most 
resolute opposition, not only from the court, from all 
the conservative elements of society, but the more I 
thought of this, the more I was stimulated to go on. 
I regretted heartily my many little hasty speeches 
which had given offence to those who would have 
been my friends, and I could not fail to see the 
threatening aspect of my whole future. I saw that 
there was no bond of connection between my scien- 
tific systems and those of my friends. They dealt 
alone with the conditioned, I with the free and un- 
conditioned, and there could be no tie between us. 
And I could not help feeling that the views which 
I held were of great worth. My lectures were not 
to be mere dealings with abstractions, — they con- 
cerned life, immortality, and God, — and I could not 
refrain from prayer in my own room before I went 



1-6 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

before the public assembly. It was the first prayer, 
I suppose, which I had offered since the days of my 
childhood. I had talked much about Christianity, 
but this prayer went deeper than my talk, even to 
the root of religion. I carried the influence of my 
prayer to the lecture-room. Faith, unconquerable 
and serene, became the basis of all my wisdom, and 
did not desert me. 

My lodgings were directly across the street from 
the lecture-room, and as I looked out I could see an 
excited crowd. Two of my friends came in to go 
over with me, and I saw that they were nervously 
anxious. We crossed the street ; the doorway of 
the hall was full ; we could scarcely effect an en- 
trance. At last way was made, and I passed into 
the hall, which was crowded with men. Even the 
windows were all occupied. As I stepped upon the 
stage there was perfect silence. In an instant I 
felt free from embarrassment, and no tremulousness 
could be detected in my speech. I did not venture 
to speak without manuscript. Nevertheless, I was 
carried away by my interest in the subject, and such 
was my earnestness and the glow of my manner 
that I do not wonder that I gained applause for elo- 
quence. It is plain that my audience was pleased. 
Day after day the hall was thronged, and people 
went an hour before the time to secure good scats. 
And it was not students alone who attended my 
lectures. Professors, savans, officials of high posi- 
tion, were there. The interest which the public 
took in them was unprecedented ; they were the 
talk of the town. But I was too much in earnest 



STEFF£NS'S LECTURES AT COPENHAGEN. 127 

with my work to be foolishly elated. It seemed to 
be a serious thing to influence a community as I 
was doing, and I looked upon it in a most serious 
light. 

My popularity was increased by a little circum- 
stance which occurred soon after the lectures com- 
menced. On the fifth or the sixth day I accidentally 
left my manuscript at home, and did not discover 
its absence till I was on the platform. I disliked 
to send for it, and ventured to proceed without it, 
stating the carcumstance to my audience, and beg- 
ging their indulgence. I saw that I had only stim- 
ulated their curiosity, and that they expected a slow 
and stumbling performance. But the subject lay so 
clear in my mind that I found that I could commu- 
nicate my thoughts better extempore than by read- 
ing from manuscript. My audience were equally 
surprised and delighted. I was so pleased with my 
success that I determined to give up my manuscript 
forever. Yet this whole occurrence was wrested by 
my adversaries to my disadvantage. They had the 
malice to assert that the thing was premeditated ; 
that I had committed my lectoire to memory, and 
then recited it by heart. 

Meanwhile the crowds at my lectures grew larger 
and larorer. It bes^an to be rumored that I should 
be forbidden to speak in public, and my audience 
was in daily expectation of seeing some high official 
rise during my speaking and impose silence upon 
me. But my adversaries did not take that course. 
They worked with more subtlety and strove to 
undermine my reputation. And in this they sue- 



128 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

ceeded. I looked to Count Reventlow for assistance 
in procuring a field for my geognostic investigations. 
He was the avowed enemy of all speculative philos- 
ophy, and was unwilling to believe that a man could 
be a metaphysician and a practical man at the same 
time. And so, with my opponents urging him on 
against me, it is plain that the future must have 
begun to wear a somewhat gloomy aspect. 

But the fall and the winter wore away, and I 
went on with my lectures. The hall continued to 
be well filled, although of course tbe excitement 
witnessed at the outset could not be kept up. The 
opposition of my enemies grew, meanwhile, and 
Schimmelmann was the only minister upon whom 
I could rely. Gradually the year wore round, and 
the time grew near for me to return to Halle and 
claim my bride. 

At length I went to Giebichenstein. I was re- 
ceived with a great welcome. I spent a part of my 
time with Reil in Halle, and the rest of the time, 
how happy it may be imagined, in Reich ardt's fam- 
ily. I was married the fourth of September, 1803. 
We remained at my new home for a week ai:er the 
wedding. The parents saw their daughter leave 
them for her northern home with many tears ; we 
took our leave and started for Berlin. We tarried 
there at the house of my wife's brother. How dif- 
ferent did Berlin seem to me now from what it did 
before. Tieck was not there, but I made the ac- 
quaintance of his sister. I met the elder Schlegel 
there. I there became acquainted with Schleierma- 
cher. The few days spent in the city were of great 



MARRIED LIFE AT COPENHAGEN. 129 

interest, and they awakened fresh memories of the 
many happy days which I had spent in Germany. 

At length we arrived at Copenhagen, and the first 
days coukl not be agreeable to a lady who, like my 
wife, had hardly known what care was. She could 
speak Danish hardly at all, and I was obliged to 
leave her at the hotel all day, while I was busy in 
arranging all the details of our house. I used often 
to return and find her in tears. My fiiends came in 
to see us, but, as they could not talk German, their 
visits were only an annoyance to my wife. 

Nevertheless, time went by. We got accustomed 
to our lot, and were soon invited into very agree- 
able society. The Countess Schimmelmann, and 
many of the first ladies of Copenhagen, received 
my wife very kindly, and often invited us to their 
homes. Many things were made very agreeable to 
us, and it may seem as if our life in Denmark must 
have been very pleasant. But it was far from it. 
The furnishing of my house had plunged me into 
embarrassing debts. I had thus far in life lived 
without any perplexity regarding money, and when 
I found myself in momentary trouble there was 
always some way out soon found. But now my 
embarrassments were serious, for I had not alone 
myself to care for, — the welfare of another one was 
in my keeping. Even now, in my old age, I am not 
familiar with all the details of business, and the care 
of money is something I know nothing about. And 
80, in Copenhagen, the future towered gloomily be- 
fore me. I was saddled with debts, and with all the 
thrift that I could exercise my income did not prove 



130 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

sufficient to meet my current expenses. I tried to 
hide my cares from my wife as much as I could, but 
she could not help seeing the posture of my affairs. 

Meanwhile my enemies continued their attacks, 
and even went so far as to assert that a young man 
had been made insane in consequence of my teach- 
ing. It was plain that sooner or later my lectures 
would be proscribed, and my strongest friends be 
compelled to give up my cause. This gave me new 
anxieties. I could see no means of warding off the 
attacks of my enemies. I could not live down op- 
position. I should starve before I had done it. 
What I said was ])erverted by malice, and what I 
did was caricnture-'^l. Those were, indeed, trying 
days. 

All at once the day broke. In March, 1804, I 
received a letter from Dr. Reil, of Halle, which 
awakened new hopes. He stated that it was the 
intention of the Prussian government to promote 
the interests of the university there by calling 
thither eminent and rising young men from abroad, 
and he asked whether it would be agreeable to ac- 
cept the post of Professor ordinarius of Natural Phi- 
losophy, Physiology, and Mineralogy. "Upon that 
hint I spake." I told him in reply what the whole 
condition of my circumstances was, and that much 
as I loved my country and wished to serve her, she 
had thrust me moodily away and would not accept 
my service. I told him how much I loved Ger- 
many, and how glad beyond measure my wife would 
be to have me accept such a call. In truth, we were 
both in an ecstasy of delight. I had not known till 



SECOND RECEPTION BY GOETHE, 131 

then how much my heart was drawn to Germany. 
And bitter as was the thought of being driven 
from my own country, the prospect of such a life as 
awaited me was enough to make it tolerable. My 
wife had not told me before how much her heart 
had yearned for home. And now it seemed that 
she was to live within cannon-shot of her father's 
door. Reil forwarded money enough to pay the 
most pressing bills, and we prepared for the jour- 
ney. I wished to be in Halle by September, in 
order to have ample time to prepare my lectures. 
And thus closed that strange episode of life in Co- 
penhagen. 



CHAPTER VI. 

RETURN TO HALLE — COMMENCES HOUSEKEEPING — DARK PROS- 
PECTS — SCHLEIERMACHER — LIFE AS PROFESSOR AT HALLE—' 
FICHTE — JOHANNES VON MCLLER — ALEX. VON HUMBOLDT — 
POLITICAL ASPECTS — WARLIKE APPEARANCES — EXCITED FEEL- 
ING IN HALLE — THE SEIZING OF THE CITY BY THE FRENCH 
— NAPOLEON AT HALLE — THE UNIVERSITY BROKEN UP BY 
NAPOLEON — SAD DAYS — UNSETTLED LIFE FROM 180G TO 1808. 

Notwithstanding all my exultant delight over 
my future, I could not leave my own country, when 
the hour of parting came, without many sorrows. 
For her sake I had given up the flattering call to 
Ireland, and had gone home with the fullest inten- 
tion of devoting my whole energies to the good of 
my native land. I was now, as it were, an exile. I 
should have to give up my sweet mother tongue, 
and only speak in foreign accents. I was full of 
sadness, and it was not till the j^acket had brought 
us almost to the German shore that my spirits re- 
vived. But they did revive, partly by way of reac- 
tion, partly in consequence of my "wife's joy. And 
when I came to Ilamburq; the German lano:uao:e 
seemed so homelike that that trouble passed by, 
and I felt quite happy again. At Kiel I met Ilens- 
ler, so well known to the readers of Niebuhr's Life. 
At Hamburg I visited Madame Sieveking, the Eliz- 
abeth Fry of Germany. The whole North was then 

132 



COMMENCES HOUSEKEEPING IN HALLE. 133 

in possession of the French, and it was wonderful 
in what apathy the people lived under this for- 
eign power. The course of Napoleon was then 
unchecked. He had almost witliout opposition 
gained possession of the northern duchies. But at 
Berlin we found no fear of his progress. I could 
see no good reason for such security, but as the peo- 
ple felt no alarm, mine soon passed away. 

In September, 1804, a year after my wedding, I 
restored the much-loved daughter to the arms of 
her parents. It was a happy day to all. I at once 
busied myself in making arrangements for house- 
keeping, but I soon fell into trouble again. My 
father-in-law had hired a house far too large for our 
necessities, and the whole outlay had to be pro- 
portioned to the splendor of the mansion. I had 
almost no library, and rich as was that of the uni- 
versity in old books, it was not supplied with those 
works which were indispensable to me. I had no 
mineral cabinet, and the one which belonged to the 
university was worthless. It would be necessary for 
me to procure one. To add to my perplexities I 
found that the sum which had been advanced to 
ms at Copenhagen to settle my most urgent debts 
there would be deducted from my salary, and leave 
me without resources for my first three months. 
And to add to all, rivalries and jealousies arose 
among the professors, and I found that as a for- 
eigner, and a Dane at that, and as an advocate of 
the new transcendental philosophy, I had the same 
battle to fight in Halle which I had already fought 
in Copenhagen. The men who held to empirical 



134 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

science, and looked no further, began to circulate 
the vilest rumors about me. It was asserted that 
my wife and I had become Catholics. A public 
journal had me in its columns as an atheist. Sto- 
ries passed around regarding the looseness of my 
life. It was said that I was in the daily use of large 
potions of opium and lived in constant intoxica- 
tion. One professor expressed to my wife his sor- 
row over my mercurial temperament, and his fear 
that I should come to an early death from over- 
excitement. I had a slight inflammation of the 
throat and had to call in a physician. He asked me 
if I did not have a trembling of my hands every 
morning till I had taken a good dose of schnapps. 
I was so angry that I asked him whether he had any 
desire to know what these trembling hands could 
do. It was very plain that trouble was before me, 
and that discomforts were to be found at Halle as 
well as everywhere else. 

There were five philosophical professors in the 
university. They were all men of some note, and 
stood together in compact unity to resist the young 
advocate of Schelling's philosophy. All but one 
were avowed followers of Kant. They carried their 
opposition so far as to warn the young men against 
me. To add to my perplexities was the knowledge 
that I had not yet advanced far enough to trace the 
relations between physics and Schelling's metaphys- 
ics. I, indeed, believed that I had in the latter an 
ars inve?iiendi, which would exercise a real influ- 
ence in the development of physical science, and in 
the treatment of all its departments. I did not yet 



OPPOSITION IX HALLE. 135 

clearly see that Schelling's system and the experi- 
mental system were so wholly outside of each other 
that they must expand in completely different ways ; 
that they would give rise to two entirely variant 
sciences ; that the endeavor to interfuse experi- 
mental philosophy with what was called the nature 
philosophy would only be destruction to the for- 
mer. Schelling's transcendental system in contrast 
with the Kantian or Baconian is thoroughly ideal, 
and that for this reason, that its reality lies in the 
All. The influence which it exerts over every em- 
pirical science is, therefore, hard to trace to details. 
This is, moreover, true, also, of history. All em- 
piricism proceeds from the visible, the granted, the 
connections and the relations of conditioned forms ; 
and where she directs herself to the discovery of 
universal laws she never transcends the limits of 
sense, and the worth of her discoveries depends 
upon the clearness with which she views her field 
of search. What lies beyond it has no value to the 
empirical philosopher. And if I could not yet see 
that Schelling's system of transcendental philoso- 
phy, which deals with the unseen and the uncondi- 
tioned, was wholly outside of the empirical system, 
how should I be able to make myself understood in 
my lectures ? I saw that I should become the object 
of the strongest opposition. And yet my confidence 
was so strong that I did not fear the combined an- 
tagonism of all the forces which might be brought 
against me. 

And there was, indeed, a bright side. During the 
two years which I had spent in Denmark, Schelling's 



136 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

system had gained many adherents, and awakened 
much interest among the young men of the univer- 
sity. It was plain to the acutest observers that 
with the new century was to dawn a new day in 
science. Another spirit was abroad, and opposition 
to the men of the future by the men of the past 
would be vain. There were also two privat do- 
cents in the college who were adherents to the new 
system. They soon were called away from Halle, 
but they supported my views at the first. Schel- 
ling in Jena was my firm friend, and I could rely on 
his full support. Wolf, the great, the eminent phi- 
lologist, was then the chief light of Halle. He 
warmly espoused my views. Reil, who procured 
me the call to Halle, was true from first to last. 
Mickel, the anatomist, and Spengler, the well-known 
historian of medicine, were constant friends ; and 
great numbers of the young men were only stimu- 
lated by the opposition made to me to become my 
most enthusiastic j^upils. ^ 

I ought here to speak of a man, the making of 
whose acquaintance formed an epoch in my life. I 
allude to Schleiermacher, who was called to Halle 
as professor extraordinary at the same time with 
myself, or a few weeks later. Schleiermacher, as is 
well known, was small in stature, and somewhat de- 
formed, yet not so much as to be very apparent. 
He was quick in all his movements, and his counte- 
nance was very expressive. A certain sharpness in 
his eye might to some be a little repulsive. He 
seemed to look you through. He was some years 
older than I. His face was long, his features sharply 



SCHLEIERMA CHER. 137 

drawn, the lips firmly pressed together, the chin 
protruding, the eye keen and fiery, the countenance 
composed, serious, and thoughtful. I saw him in 
the most varied circumstances, — in deep meditation, 
playful, jocose, mild, and indignant, moved with joy 
and with pain ; but in all there was a constant un- 
derlying calmness, greater and more able to control 
his spirit than the passing gush of feeling. And yet 
there was nothing impassive in this calmness. A 
touch of irony played over his features, real sym- 
pathy with man never deserted him, and a child's 
goodness and sweetness were always his. His con- 
stant thoughtfiilness had wonderfully mastered his 
natural temper and tone. While he was in the 
most mirthfid conversation, nothing escaped him. 
He saw everything that transpired around him, he 
heard everything, even the low talk of others. Art 
has wonderfully perpetuated his face. Ranch's bust 
of him is one of the master-triumphs of skill, and 
whoever has lived as intimately with him as I, is 
almost startled when he looks upon it. It often 
seems to me as if he were there, in my presence, as 
if he were just on the point of opening those lips 
and uttering some weighty word. 

We opened ourselves unreservedly to one another, 
and I have never exj^erienced more decisively that 
an unrestrained intimacy with others favors, rather 
than hinders, a correct knowledge of ourselves. As 
Goethe, Schelling, and Tieck had won upon me 
before, so now did Schleiermacher. What people 
called Spinozaism was just what drew me most 
strongly to him, because he did not appear to me to 



138 THE STORY OF JFY CAREER. 

be cast in a rigid mould, but to be the very spring 
of the most unconstrained freedom. His Critique 
of Morals had been pubHshed about a year. It is 
true, his style was dialectically negative, but yet 
there was plainly in the man the reality of positive 
and comprehensive truth which should lose all ne- 
gation in a loftier statement. It is generally known, 
through the agency of my friend Twesten, how 
deeply he entered into my views of natural science, 
at least so far as these were capable of being gener- 
alized into the broadest expression. We lived uni- 
ted" by the closest ties ; we communicated to each 
other our views, our thoughts, even our fancies. 
Schleiermacher, as well as myself, lived in Rei- 
ch ardt's family ; our walks, our parties of pleasure, 
our associates were common ; our best hearers, those 
who were in earnest, attended the lectures of us 
both. Ilis ethical lectures and mine on philosophy 
appeared to our hearers to be most intimately uni- 
ted; they seemed to be complementary to each 
other. We also made a mutual exchange of what 
we knew. Schleiermacher listened to my lectures 
on physics, and opened Greek philosophy to me, and 
taught me to appreciate Plato. It is, of course, not 
my object here, where I am merely exhibiting my 
personal relations to him, to decide the place which 
he is to occupy as the one who has opened a new 
future to theological inquiries ; the knowledge is 
wantins: to me to do that, even if this were a suita- 
ble place for it. But I can hardly realize vividly 
enough, nor paint forcibly enough, what I owe to 
my intimate acquaintance with him and to his wri- 



SCHL EIERMA CHER. 139 

tings, — how deeply they have both affected my 
character. 

The more deeply, earnestly, religiously Schleier- 
macher looked upon life and science, the more 
decided he became in rejecting, not only in his 
scientific lectures, but also in life, everything that 
seemed to him foolish and worthless. He even 
loved to trifle at times with conventional forms. 
Many stories about him were current in the city, 
and perhaps went further. People used to talk 
about the professor of theology going out to botan- 
ize, in a short, green jacket, light trowsers, and a tin 
box thrown over his shoulder. 

Schleiermacher had not only the post of a profes- 
sor, but he was preacher to the university also. An 
old church was fitted up for the use of the students, 
and when the widowed queen died, it was Schleier- 
macher's duty to preach the funeral sermon. It 
was in March. A delightful spring day enticed us 
both, accompanied by a common friend, to walk out 
to Petersberg on the evening before the solemn 
burial service should be held. We spent the night 
in a hut in the little villac^e of Ostrow. That nieht 
will never be forgotten by me. We never drew so 
near each other as then. Schleiermacher never dis- 
played himself to me more exalted or more pure. 
That night stili comes back to me as one of the 
marked periods of my life, — I might almost say it 
seems hallowed. The day closed glorious and beau- 
tiful; the landscape stretched away, made fair by the 
new activities of spring. The whole scene was like 
a vast natural temple ; the magnificence gave wings 



140 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

to every thought, it penetrated us through and 
through, and, as the spring quickens the earth, so 
did this prospect quicken our spirits. I have a wit- 
ness of the deep impression which this night made 
upon Schleiermacher, in a letter to his friend, Lady 
Herz. It was the reflection of his own purity, in 
which I stood, as it were, illumined. His deep spirit- 
uality was more apparent to me than ever before. 
The Saviour was with us then, as he had promised 
to be when two or three were gatliered together in 
his name. It was plain to me that a positive reli- 
gious character has been his from his childhood 
among the Moravians up, and that what he called 
in a technical way sensibility, was, when lifted up 
into the Christian consciousness, touched with the 
eternal love of God ; and it grieved me sorely that 
the faith of so eminent a philosopher was so misun- 
derstood. This sensibility of his was what faith is 
to love, what thought is to feeling, the second the 
cherishing guardian of the first. 

It was past midnight, and between nine and ten 
o'clock tlie next day Schleiermacher must be in the 
pulpit. The subject must be treated with a great 
deal of delicacy. After a few hours' sleep we awoke, 
and yet some eio-ht miles to walk. Durinor the ninlit 
it had frozen. The warm days which liad gone be- 
fore had melted the snow, and so the road, when 
frozen again, was uneven. Schleiermacher, an ex- 
cellent pedestrian, kept ahead of us, and sped along 
over the roughness. We could scarcely keep up. 
We noticed how deeply sunk in thought he was, 
despite the bad walking, and we did not disturb 



SCHLEIERMACHEB. 141 

him. When I came home, I had hardly time to put 
myself in readiness before the time for church ar- 
rived. When I appeared among my brothers there 
was a general movement. "Ah," said they, "now 
you have come, we may hope at last to see Schlei- 
ermacher." His excursion of the day before had 
transpired and made the round of the city, and it 
was even known that we had passed the night in a 
hut. Early in the morning the)'' had sent to his 
lodgings, and as lie had not returned an hour before 
the time to commence the funeral service, and the 
church bells had all begun to ring, they began to 
think, and some, perhaps, to hope, that he would 
not come. I kept my peace and let the professors 
talk. 

Schleiermacher ascended to the jDulpit. Every 
one who has heard him remembers the imposing 
earnestness of his manner while officiating in the 
sacred desk. His sermon displayed that careful 
arrangement which always was a distinguishing 
mark with him. His very calmness and unimpas- 
sioned air made a deep impression, and every one 
left the church with a new conviction of the noth- 
ingness of all earthly relations, even the highest, 
when brought into conflict with the purposes of God. 
All my brother professors applauded and wondered 
at the discourse. The fact that he who had pro- 
nounced such an elaborate, clear, finished, and judi- 
cious funeral oration, had passed the hours previous 
in a rustic merry-making, appeared to them unpar- 
alleled. I do not think that the rumor of his night 
in the hut at Ostrow made any abiding impression. 



142 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

How readily I live those clays over again, and see 
myself in the scenes of my former activity. The 
students who attended Schleiermacher's lectures 
and my own, or rather those of them who became 
strongly attached to us, used to meet us once a 
week at tea, alternating between him and me. The 
conversation on such occasions was thorough and 
dee]), though unrestrained. A circle was formed, of 
which I still think with deep interest. It would not 
be wrong for me to say that this circle embraced all 
those men whose minds had been roused to a hiojh 
activity by Wolf, Reil, Schleiermacher, and, I might 
add, myself. We did not form what could be called 
a school in any narrow sense, but an insight into the 
lofty nature of speculative ideas gave interest to all 
that we did or attempted. Every one, theologian, 
physician, philologist, strove to grasp life and science 
in its higher meaning. The professors were not one- 
sided men, but they were filled with the same ear- 
nestness which prevailed among the students. Our 
opponents appeared to fear that an overstrained 
excitement, and an absence of all careful and rigid 
investigation, characterized us, and repressed thor- 
ough inquiry with us. This fear showed itself 
wholly ungrounded. In Halle, all the extravagan- 
ces of a merely arbitrary system of physical science 
disappeared. Real investigation, and that we had, 
won the palm, and I cannot recall a single student 
of those days who can be reckoned among the mere 
visionaries of physics. There was formed not only 
a strong corps of professed scholars in all depart- 
ments but also trained practical men, who should 



LIFE AS PROFESSOR AT HALLE. 143 

be qualified for high public posts. Among these 
men were found Yarnhagen von Ense, the diplo- 
matist and author, I^eander, the theologian, Bekker 
and Bockh, the philologists. 

The subjects on which I lectured were natural 
philosophy, physiology, mineralogy, geognosy, and 
^n the last half year, being specially requested by my 
l^upils, physics as an empirical science. These last 
lectures demanded a considerable outlay, although, 
through the kindness of a friend, I was provided 
with an air-pump and an electrical machine. My 
whole situation was more favorable than ever be- 
fore, although soon after my arrival I saw that I 
should have to economize. I left the roomy house 
which my fither-in-law had hired for me, and took 
a smaller one. I dismissed my servant, and lived in 
great seclusion, because all company could be met at 
my father-in-law's, at Giebichenstein. I lived wholly 
for my studies, my lectures, and the students who 
attached themselves to me. 

Yet my relations to the students were not favora- 
ble throucrhout. The mass of them were unculti- 
vated and rough, and my antipathy to the wild 
student life was so strong that I could hardly con- 
ceal it. Once in a while I was saluted with a vivat, 
but the pereat generally was my portion. 

Yet, however severely we may judge the German 
universities and the students of those days, it is 
not to be denied that a good element was there, a 
sensibility to true science, always ready to break out 
of the roughest natures. Wolf's, Reil's, Schleier- 
macher's r.nd my ov>'ii students, formed a circle that 



144 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

knew how to appreciate worth, and liad it been al- 
lowed to Halle University to enjoy many more years 
of peace, there would have come from its halls many 
a man ready to play an important part in the history 
of his times. 

I was living in perfect contentment; the fairest 
prospects were before me ; my activities were en-, 
tirely absorbed, and their circle was daily widening ; 
my situation, my family, my friends, my auditors, all 
were as I could wish ; and for the first time in my 
life I could feel free from a weighty pressure of care 
about my outward circumstances. But the soil out 
of which such promising fruit sprung was shallow, 
and I did not know it. True, I thought much of the 
condition of Prussia. But I could not see it with 
the eyes of one born in the kingdom. Yet the 
future loomed up before dark and threatening, and 
I contemplated it only with foreboding. 

In January, 180G, Clara was born, the only child 
which God gave to me. She was sickly, but yet she 
lived and thrived. In the spring of the same year 
I went to Berlin with Schleiermacher and his sister. 
The season was charming, and Berlin charged with 
animation. Political affairs were then very threat- 
ening, and the nearer a decision came, the more 
clearly could it be read that men demanded vigor- 
ous measures. 

Humboldt, having returned from America a year 
before, was now in Berlin. Two houses of equal 
size stood in Frederick Street, surrounded with 
trees. In one of them lived Humboldt, in the other 
Johannes Midler, the historian. In the great house, 



FICHTE.^ JOHANNES MULLER. 145 

now known as the Frederick William Institute, I 
sought Fichte ; went up one flight of stairs, met a 
well-dressed gentleman, and asked if Fichte did not 
live there. " The man is a stranger to me," he re- 
plied ; and I confess I looked at him with astonish- 
ment. That Fichte lived in that house was certain, 
and at length I found him, when I had tried at 
another staircase. But that any one who lived 
under the same roof with the philosopher should 
not know even the name of Fichte, then in the 
very bloom of his reputation, one of the most dis- 
tinguished men in Germany, seemed to me, I con- 
fess, rather strange ; it made me feel that I was in a 
great city. 

The eminent scholars of Berlin were the first 
objects of my inquiries. I regarded it as a specially 
favorable circumstance that I could make the ac- 
quaintance of Johannes Muller, the historian. I 
was familiar with his history of Switzerland, and 
had read it with deep interest. The thoroughness 
of his investigations had called forth my admira- 
tion, while the spirit which prevailed in bis whole 
method excited my wonder. Musical composers 
sometimes complain of Goethe's songs that their 
very excellences preclude the possibility of adapt- 
ing them to the most fitting music. The very 
jDoetry, they say, contains too much harmony, and 
fetters the freedom of the composer. So the pow- 
erful dramatic style of Muller seemed to preclude a 
more artistic expression, even when he was merely 
stating the rude facts of history. In private he was 

10 



146 THE STORY OF MY CAREF.R. 

an iustructive companion, and my acquaintance with 
him was highly favorable to my own studies. 

But the meeting with Alexander von Humboldt 
was the chief advantage of my stay in Berlin. I had 
long admired the extraordinary talents of that man. 
His botanical investigations; his geognostical studies, 
calling attention to the uniformity in the strata of 
the older mountain chains (a view which, although 
])artial when first propounded, must be, neverthe- 
less, regarded as giving a different aspect to the 
modern science of geognosy) ; his extended wri- 
tings upon the irritated nerves of Jinimals, leading 
directly to Volta's discovery of galvanism; his eudio- 
metrical inquiries, which, though leading to incor- 
rect results at first, have yet added much to our 
knowledge ; — all these labors, and that unwearied 
mind, which easily solved the most difficult prob- 
lems of his time, which recognized their historical 
value, revealed to me in him the greatest genius of 
the age. Some random expressions of younger nat- 
uralists had prejudiced me against him. Whether 
they, men not at all eminent, were known to him, I 
cannot say — to this hour I am ignorant; but as it is 
so much a part of my nature to admire in others 
talents which I do not possess, the prejudice that I 
entertained against Humboldt troubled me much. 
Still, that soon passed away. I saw him almost every 
day. His conversation was in the highest degree 
instructive ; the inexhaustible extent of his obser- 
vations, which, running out into every department 
of science, comprehended all the features of a prom- 
inent though comparatively unknown and inncces- 



I 



ALEXANDER VON HUMBOLDT. 147 

sible continent, and which seemed to impose the 
necessity of studying the whole earth in the same 
close and critical method, produced an overpow- 
ering impression upon me. I saw before me the 
creator of physical geography, the man who, in 
combining and arranging the vast array of facts 
which his industry had accumulated, was widening 
the science which he himself had called into being. 
There never has been a scholar who has had such 
good reason to shrink back in view of the immense 
masses of material which he had to harmonize and 
group as Humboldt. Everything which he learned 
was his forever, and could be summoned from his 
memory in an instant ; old memoranda and the most 
varied facts all were at his immediate command. 

I made my home at the house of my friend and 
publisher, Reimer, very far from Humboldt's lodg- 
ings. I recall one occasion when Humboldt and I 
left an evening jDarty held at some distance from 
both of our homes.- He came with me to Reimer's 
house in Cook Street (Kochstrasse) ; then I went 
with him to his lodgings ; he back again to mine ; 
and thus a good part of the night was consumed, 
when he implored me not to go back with him, as I 
had intended to do. If I had had the good fortune 
to make this acquaintance in more settled times it 
would have ripened into a close friendship ; as it 
was, it made an epoch in my life. 

The hospitality of the Berliners is noted. A man 
in any way distingnished, who comes among them, 
need not want the opportunity to enter their best 
society. Almost daily I dined in the company of 



148 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

Humboldt, Johannes Muller, Fichte, and Bartholdy ; 
often, too, I spent the evening in their society. I 
recall with the most pleasing recollections Madame 
Herz, the distinscuished friend of Schleiermacher, re- 
markable for her spirit, culture, imposing and almost 
regal beauty, and her amiability. 

That Schleiermacher was seldom missing in these 
social gatherings, when his duties and his very ex- 
tended relations with society would allow, may be 
readily inferred. 

Thus I had no lack of what might minister to my 
mental activity ; but this was stimulated in yet new 
and more decisive ways. The political relations of 
those remarkable times have been so fully illustrated 
by others, that what appeared to a foreign scholar, 
who lived only for his studies and troubled himself 
little about politics, could only be that which all 
the world knew, and therefore now of little worth. 
But those were really times of immense imjDortance, 
times big with great events in -store, the dawn of 
kindling hopes, which, though for a little period to 
be obscured, should by and by gleam out again, and 
smile gratefully down on a disciplined and purified 
nation. 

In the circles amid which I moved the national 
enthusiasm was deeply felt, and spoke itself out from 
the purest sources. I, a stranger, and only partially 
acquainted with the affairs of the country, looked 
at the future with many fears, which, however, were 
not shared by my friends. Whether Prussia would 
succeed in struggling through the next few years 
was not clear to me, and the present was so full of 



POLITICAL ASPECTS. 149 

enjoyment that no very deep and settled nnxieties 
could take possession of me. My hatred to France, 
its government, and its ambitious project of crush- 
ing out all German nationality, was great and freely 
outspoken. I did not try to conceal it, and disclosed 
it not alone in my ordinary conversation, but also 
in my public lectures. My effort was to communi- 
cate my own feeling and to thus aid in arousing a 
spirit of resistance to the French invader. Still the 
apathy was wonderful, both among the students at 
Halle, and among my literary friends at Berlin. 
Thev would not believe that there was dansrer till 
it was close upon them. 

But the summer sped away in Halle, and after a 
time it appeared that the very region which was our 
home would be the theatre of war. We had sup- 
loosed that if Napoleon should attack Prussia he 
would begin at the Rhine, and the people generally 
supposed that even if there were open hostilities 
they would not disturb the ordinary business of 
life — everything Avould go on as usual. Least of 
all could we think that a university would be inter- 
fered with and its studies suspended. The number 
of ray hearers had enlarged. I was lecturing this 
summer for the first time on experimental physics. 
Schleiermacher's pupils and my own were closely 
bound together, and it really seemed as if the enthu- 
siasm about our instructions, so far from being re- 
pressed by the warlike prospects, was only increased 
in consequence of the more intense mental activity 
of every one. As the fall drew near, a division of 
the Prussian army was quartered at Halle. They 



160 THE STORY OF MY CARE Eli. 

were altogether too blustering and self-confident for 
my taste ; and the tallc of the officers was really dis- 
gusting. Instead of respecting*, not to say fearing, 
that wonderful military genius, before whom all ob- 
stacles had been as mist before the sun, they talked 
loudly about the Seven Years' War, and evidently 
thought that the name of the dead and immortal 
Frederick was to vanquish the living Napoleon. 

Meanwhile rumors came in of the approach of the 
great enemy, and a stillness, depressing our spirits 
and increasing our anxiety, rested upon all the in- 
habitants of Halle. It was now plain that we should 
see fearful sights in a few days. It was a sad feel- 
ing, that of utter impotence, which filled the minds 
of those who could not bear arms. Could we but 
take part in our own deliverance, it would at any 
rate ease our minds. But this we could not do ; we 
were as children, and our protection was intrusted 
to these boastful, over-confident soldiers, who were 
quartered in our houses. 

Nearer and nearer approached the foe, and more 
intense grew the feeling of the whole town. The 
tidings of the reverses at Jena and at Anerstadt 
came in and increased our fears. At length we 
could hear the distant cannonade, and see the 
clouds of flying dust. The day of our trouble was 
just at hand. 

The little house to which I had removed from the 
larger one which I hnd occupied before, was a cor- 
ner tenement, on the Parade, opposite the univer- 
sity library. I could look over the old ruin of 
Moritzburg and the village of Passendorf, to the 



EXCITED FEELING IX HALLE. 151 

hills on the south-west, which bounded the horizon. 
All summer long I lived in daily expectation of an 
attack on the part of the troops who were pressing 
over those hills and encamping on the plains at 
their base. On the mornins; of the sixteenth of 
October, I believed that I heard firing in the dis- 
tance. I hurried to the window, looked over to 
the level ground beyond the Long Bridge which 
crosses the Saale, and saw near Passendorf a con- 
fusion which convinced me that skirmishino- was 
going on there. The intense excitement in which 
we had passed the last few days had, however, in- 
duced a kind of quietness, or nervous exhaustion, 
which was very favorable. My wife had just weaned 
our child, and had gained so much in strength and 
vigor, that, although the enemy were pi-essing on, 
she seemed moved more by curiosity than fear. 

Very early came Schleierniacher, accompanied by 
his sister, the most intimate confidant of my wife. 
They sought our house because of the fine view 
which it commanded. But we very soon saw that 
we should improve our position for observation 
were we to go to the garden by the Freemasons' 
Hall. So, mounting to a part of the wall where 
the descent to the Saale was very steep, we could 
overlook the whole scene. Several servants and 
professors were standing there, and the Prussian 
troops were raj^idly passing the Long Bridge. We 
could see the onset, the firing on both sides, the 
plunging charges of the cavalry, but all seemed inde- 
cisive to an unskilled observer, who could only fol- 
low the separate movements. So strangely blinded 



152 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

by Prnssinn prestige, and so confident in Prussian 
valor, were tlie most, that victory on the French 
side seemed impossible. "The poor French," said 
a brother professor at my side, "I almost pity them; 
they are worn out, it is plain ; poor fellows, a sad 
fate awaits them falling into the hands of our vic- 
torious soldiers." 

But this hallucination did not last long. The 
enemy pressed on in yet greater numbers, while 
our troops were flying before them. Soon all were in 
motion among us, and, full of fear, every one hurried 
to his home. My house, situated in a remote and 
not much frequented part of the city, was regarded 
by us all as unsafe, and we resolved to spend the 
time of greatest danger in Schleiermacher's house, 
in the middle of the city. We hastened our steps 
to rescue our child from our own home. We made 
the briefest possible stay in our house, but it was 
only too long. Mr. Gass, the friend referred to 
above, took Schleiermacher's sister in charge, Schlei- 
ermacher my wife, and I my child. We had to 
traverse the whole length of Great Ulriclj's Street. 
We could hear the shots in the city, but in the 
streets there was perfect stillness. No one was to 
be seen, the houses were all locked ; in only one 
place did I observe any one, and that was a man 
tearing down a sign which would be likely to draw 
the enemy to his store. When we came to the well- 
known turn in Great Ulrich's Street, just before it 
opens into the Market Place, we saw at a glance 
the dano^er which confronted us. The fliofht of the 
Prussian army was directly across the city; the 



ATTACK ON HALLE BY THE FRENCH. 153 

whole Market Place was filled with cannon and 
with aramimition wagons, and in the streets which 
led from the Market Place down to the river we 
could hear the incessant firing. Our course was 
directly across this retreating mass. How we came 
through I cannot tell. We were so intent upon self- 
preservation that we observed nothing else. Enough 
that we stemmed the current safely. We were near 
the Merkur Street, where Schleiermacher lived. But 
just as I turned a corner which would hide the 
Market Place from further view, I glanced a mo- 
ment at the scene of rout which we had just trav- 
ersed, and to my apiazement it was utterly empty. 
Troops and wagons had disappeared as by magic. 
By the time we had fiirly entered one of the side 
streets the French came up. The shots whistled 
through the air close by us, and Bernadotte's ad- 
vance guard rode by at full speed along one of the 
great streets in full view. They paid no attention 
to us ; the retreating Prussian army was their sole 
object of i^ursuit. We reached the house ; in the 
street all was empty and still ; the door opened and 
received us, was closed and locked again, and for a 
little while we were safe. 

Yet not long. The street lay too near to the 
course of the pursuing array, and parties of cavalry 
and infantry distributed themselves for purposes of 
plunder. This movement took us all by surprise. 
The street is small, and we saw that a party had 
effected an entrance into the house oi:)posite. An 
instant after three or four thundered at our door. 
They called out to us that they would be satisfied 



154 TUE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

with Ji glass or two of wine if we would puss it out. 
In our folly we resolved to give it to them, and, as 
I opened the window to reach it to an officei", h€ 
held his pistol to my head and threatened to blow 
ray brains out if the door was not opened. So we 
had to yield, and in a moment they rushed in. I 
had to give up my watch, but happily I had no 
money with me. They took Schleiermacher's linen 
and his ready money, and were in a little while 
oiF for plunder elsewhere. Then we had peace, and 
could think a little. 

It was plain that city and university were in the 
hands of the enemy. The whole course of our life 
would now be changed. All that we had resolved 
in the past would be of no account in the future. 
Still, the great peril in which we yet were j^re- 
vented us from thinking of anything but the duty 
and care of the present. The pursuit was over, 
people began to appear one by one in the streets, 
the enemy were no longer to be seen, and I ven- 
tured in the afternoon to go to my house to dis- 
cover what had been done there. I went along the 
streets near the river. A few persons were ventur- 
ing out, but not beyond their immediate neighbor- 
hood. Here and there were small groups talking in 
an undertone. Reports of dreadful doings in the 
suburbs got round, and in the streets lay the bodies 
of slain Prussians, yet in full uniform. No one had 
entered my dweUing. I could now save my money 
and conceal my valuables. That night I did not 
spend with Schleiermacher, but with another friend. 
We were in the full power of the enemy. 



SEIZURE OF HALLE BY THE FRENCH. 155 

The first part of our night was a sad one. We 
fancied a reign of horror, and saw in our vision the 
destruction of everything hallowed by sacred asso- 
ciations. The people in the nearest neighborhood 
seemed separated from us by an unfathomable abyss, 
and rumors of unspeakable cruelties floated in upon 
us from hour to hour. We were in momentary ex- 
pectation that the torch would be applied to the 
city, and that the rule of license and rapine would 
begin. But with the advancing hours our fears left 
us ; we became merry at length, and at last we 
slept. 

The night passed away, and we learned how 
groundless our fears had been. Bernadotte's troops 
took possession of the city, and it is but simple jus- 
tice to record that they were kept in perfect disci- 
pline. A proclamation was soon published that the 
studies of the university would not be interfered 
with, and that no troops would be quartered with 
the professors. The treasury of the institution 
would not be touched, all excesses on the part of 
his troops would be repressed, and all the rights of 
the citizens would be respected. I hastened to nail 
this i^roclamation to my door. 

But in a few days we found new cause for alarm. 
Troops were constantly passing through the city. 
We heard that JSTapoleon would soon be jDresent in 
person. It was said that he was fired with rage at 
our university. In truth, we had much to fear. The 
students were intensely excited, and we heard that 
they were insisting upon the right of the whole 
sidewalk, driving even the officers into the street, 



166 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

and they were purposing to constitute themselves a 
body-guard for tlie protection of their teachers. I 
went with Schleiermacher to tlie Prorector j^Iaas, to 
ask him to summon a council to decide upon suita- 
ble measures of action. But I heard with amaze- 
ment that he regarded the step as dangerous ; the 
enemy, he thought, would consider us engaged in a 
conspiracy. Personally, this man was not at all im- 
posing ; he was slim and small, had no servants, and 
it was said was compelled to clean the boots of the 
soldiers who were quartered with him. Few of 
the professors ventured beyond their dwellings, few 
spoke together except in brief words, while the 
students paraded the streets, often shouting as they 
went. 

Napoleon came. He took possession of the house 
of Professor Mickel, one of the most attractive in 
the city, and standing on Great Berlin Square. His 
guard, wlien drawn up in parade, made an imposing 
appearance. Napoleon inspected them personally, 
and made a speech to them in praise of their con- 
duct during the taking of the city. That he was 
full of bitterness against the Prussians, we knew 
well. Halle was the first Prussian city which he 
had taken, and while his troops were following the 
enemy, he determined to rest in Halle. I was 
still with my family in Schleiermacher's house. A 
member of Napoleon's bureau of war was quartered 
there, who naturally took the best chambers, so that 
Schleiermacher, with his sister and liis friend Gass, 
as well as myself with my wife and child, were mis- 
erably lodged. We did not undress ourselves for 



NAPOLEON AT HALLE. 167 

days. The officer quartered upon us was polite, ex- 
cessively so. He often sought to draw us into con- 
versation, but as we were always reserved he at last 
had the audacity to ask Schlciermacher to indite a 
paper addressed to the Prussian court, which should 
display the great advantages which would follow 
the victorious march of Napoleon. That Schleier- 
macher should listen to such a request without 
breaking out into ungovernable rage surprised rae, 
indeed. It may well be thought that those were 
times of humiliation. The official remained, how- 
ever, polite as ever. Once he talked unreservedly 
of the unbridled ambition of the emperor. It was, 
he maintained, his object to restore the old Roman 
empire of the middle ages, and should he succeed 
in this he would be able in a short time to advance 
the welfare of the nations which he should conquer, 
for a lasting peace must ensue. The culture of 
France would be a universal bond of union, and 
there would be no power which would dare disturb 
the reign of peace that would follow. An unmeas- 
ured bitterness, an almost irrepressible hate, sprung 
ujD in our hearts as we heard these words in our 
own lanfTuaoje from a man of German birth. We 
left the house but little, we shunned, so far as we 
could, the sight of our detested foes. Napoleon re- 
mained, if I mistake not, three days in Halle. On 
the second day lie rode with his generals and mar- 
shals through the street where I was staying. The 
official who was quartered upon us urged us to wit- 
ness the splendid array. After repeated requests 
Schleiermacher and I cast a hasty glance down 



158 THE STOltY OF MY CAREER. 

upon the street. This did not enable us to dis- 
criminate the separate personages. I saw distinctly 
only the flinciful uniform of Murat. Napoleon I 
never saw. 

But the more all external help faded away from 
sight, the more threatening the appearance which 
circumstances assumed, the greater became my con- 
fidence, despite all probabilities, that what was truly 

. good in Germany could not be suffered to perish, 
and the surer mounted my conviction that He who 
had guided the course of history would not permit 
all the precious results of ages to be trodden out of 
sight in an instant. I ventured to speak out what 
I felt, and this conviction remained with me as my 
consolation so long as the French possessed the 
country. The conviction that I should live to wit- 
ness Napoleon's downfall never left me. 

On one of the days during which Napoleon re- 
mained at Halle, a student rushed into Schleierma- 
cher's house in the greatest excitement and alarm. 
My wife, who was sustained by remarkable courage 
and heroism, rallied him for his fears. It was some 
time before he could control himself enough to 
speak. My wife still laughed at him for a bold Ger- 
man youth. At last he became composed enough 
to inform us of the cause of his alarm. 

A deputation of three professors, of whom the 
distincruished educator Niemever was one, had been 
selected to wait upon Napoleon. While they were 
with the emperor a number of the students gath- 
ered upon the square, and when the professors came 

W'rom the imperial presence, one of them made a 



NAPOLEON AT HALLE. 159 

brief address to the students, which they loudly ap- 
plauded. But to the French the purport of the 
speech and occasion of applause were equally un- 
known. Added to this, when Napoleon was taking 
his daily ride 'through the streets, a number of stu- 
dents thronged around him without giving any salu- 
tation. This uncourteous way of German burschen 
must have been provoking to him, and was, doubt- 
less, considered intentional. One student, whom 
Napoleon addressed, replied with a simple Monsieur. 
On this, people began to fear that the emperor's 
hostility to the university would be made fully man- 
ifest. The report passed around that a number of 
the students were in arms against him ; but in truth 
there was no foundation for such a rumor. Two 
young noblemen, who, doubtless, hesitated between 
military service and the continuance of their studies, 
did, indeed, join the army. Napoleon might reason- 
ably think that so large a number of young men 
from the best families might be able to stir up much 
rebellious feeling after he had j^assed on. Unac- 
quainted with the methods of conducting German 
universities, he supposed that the students lived in 
commons, and wondered that they were so freely 
allowed to roam at large. Thus understanding 
affairs, he dismissed the university, and ordered the 
students to depart at once to their homes. That 
this threw the students into trouble was natural ; 
but what they especially feared, and what had so 
alarmed the one who fled to our house, was the 
thought that Napoleon's plan was to follow them 
oiit upon the roads and dispatch them unarmed. 



160 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

The whole of the great house occupied in part by 
Schleiermacher was crowded with soldiers. To- 
wards morning, during an unquiet sleep, we per- 
ceived an unusual stir, a tramping on the stairs, loud 
words of command in the court, and the tread of 
horses. When we were fairly awake the city was 
empty. We, the teachers, remained in the deserted 
town, our profession made worthless, our " occupa- 
tion gone." A few of the older students ventured 
to remain. 

In the city all was apparently peaceful. The 
council of professors met, and we learned that the 
funds of the university had not been sj^ared. A 
document had arrived from Dessau statinor that we 
were in disgrace with the emperor. Scholars, it 
stated, ought not to trouble themselves with poli- 
tics ; their business was to cultivate and diffuse the 
sciences ; the professors at Halle had mistaken their 
calling, and the emperor had resolved to break up 
the university. That every one w\as dismayed, may 
be guessed. The council of professors was thrown 
into trepidation and unable to act. I ^vas myself 
filled with the thought that so eminent a body of 
men ought in all this time of trouble to preserve 
unsullied dignity of deportment. There were, of 
course, some unworthy words put forth. It was 
urged by a few that we try to justify ourselves with 
Napoleon, and convince him that we never cher- 
ished hostile feelings towards him. Such an expres- 
sion would have been with me a deliberate lie. For 
our feelings towards Napoleon, before the capture 
of the city, I said, we have no account to give. All 



HALLE UNIVERSITY DISBANDED. 161 

that we could plead was, that since we came under 
Lis power we had done what we could to promote 
a patient subjection on the part of the students, and 
merit no reproaches from our conquerors. 

The position of Schleiermacher and myself was 
bad enough. Our sal^vy was due the first of No- 
vember, and that which had been received was 
already fully spent. We had, indeed, received from 
the students themselves a large sum in advance for 
the lectures which were just to commence. I had 
in my possession about four hundred dollars. I had 
not, of course, expected to be in any want of money, 
:ind was relying on the usual receipt of my salary. 
But with the departure of the students I was com- 
pelled to return the money which they had paid 
me in advance for my lectures, and it was fortunate 
for me that I had made no encroachment upon it. 
After adjusting all my accounts I found that I had 
seven dollars left. Schleiermacher had no more 
than I. It was impossible to receive any from dis- 
tant friends. An army was between them and us, 
and all communication was cut off. 

We resolved to unite the little capital which was 
at our command, and to keep house in common. 
Schleiermacher removed into my little tenement. 
My wife and child and Schleiermacher's sister occu- 
pied one small chamber, he and I another, and we 
all worked and studied in one room. In a corner 
of that room Schleiermacher wrote his Commentary 
on the first Epistle of Paul to Timothy. We lived 

most sparingly, saw very ^qw visitors, almost never 
11 



162 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

left the house, and when our money was gone I sold 
my silver. 

Yet, though troubled in these ways, we had some 
sources of comfort left us. We had great and un- 
shaken faith in the future, and believed that wo 
should live to see the restorf^tion of our land. We 
used soon to gather in at our tea some friends and 
the few students who had had the courage to re- 
main in Halle. Fortunately we had laid in a large 
store of sugar and tea before the enemy came. The 
evenings we then spent together I shall never forget. 

News of all kinds poured in upon us. Napoleon 
Was marching on in conquest, and we were soon 
horrified to learn that even Magdeburg offered but 
little resistance. In our own place we were often 
amused to hear of the extreme fear into which even 
the professors would sometimes fall. Yet I confess it 
was natural, and we, too, shared in it. Some of the 
captured powder-wagons stood on the square direct- 
ly in front of my house, and a considerable amount 
was scattered upon the ground. The foolhardiness 
of the French soldiers was amazing. Their iron- 
heeled shoes would often strike fire upon the pave- 
ment, and they carelessly smoked as they walked 
among the powder-wagons. Remonstrance with 
them would have done no good, and we lived in 
continual teiTor. 

Schleiermacher and I considered ourselves for- 
tunate to secure passes which would allow us to 
travel. They were procured with some difficulty. 
We had to be measured like recruits, and wore 
marks as suspected ; but it was a happy freedom 



TWO YEARS OF UNSETTLED LIFE. 163 

which would permit us even this license when we 
might be disposed to use it. 

But let it not be thought that our studies did not 
go on. Our investigations were mostly of a specula- 
tive kind. There were times when the condition of 
the country and our own straits wholly faded from 
our minds. Of course my relations with Schleier- 
macher became most intimate. At last communi- 
cation was opened with Berlin and Copenhagen. 
Money came in from friends and publishers, and our 
immediate necessities were supplied. Then came 
the task of deciding upon the future. Schleierma- 
cher resolved to remain in Halle yet a little longer, 
because the perfect seclusion and the slight cost of 
living favored him in his scientific investigations. I 
felt that I must look elsewhere. My Danish friends 
recommended me to those in power there, and I 
was assured of a competent support if I should re- 
turn thither. Then came the real difiiculty of decid- 
ing. I never had felt so strongly bound to Prussia 
and to my brother professors as now. Trouble had 
drawn us together, and the adversities of the land 
had warmed my heart towards her. Had I had 
means I should probably have remained. But I 
was without resources, and so was compelled to ac- 
cept the offer of Danish friends, and to bid adieu j;o 
Halle and Schleiermacher. 

My life for the next two year§ was one of great 
distress, of great anxieties, and of great privations. 
I had no income, and was obliged to live upon the 
hospitalities of friends in Kiel, Hamburg, Copenha- 
gen, and Liibeck. I had, indeed, an offer, through 



1C4 THE STORY OF MY CAllKER. 

the kindness of Count Scbimmelinann, to take an 
office in the finance department of Denmark, but 
I could not consent to give up my profession, my 
studies, and my hopes of usefuhiess in science. So, 
against the strongest protestations of my friends, I 
refused the invitation. The whole future of Prussia 
seemed uncertain, but I could not help thinking that 
I should be able before many years to resume the 
current of my labors in that country, and still rank 
myself as a citizen by adoption. Meanwhile my 
circumstances were almost desperate. Had I been 
alone I could have borne it better; but, with a wife 
and child dependent upon me, the uncertainties of 
the future and the needs of the present made my 
situation deplorable. The kindness of friends did 
not, indeed, allow us to suifer ; but the sense of de- 
pendence was galling in the extreme. At last, how- 
ever, the joyful tidings came that the university at 
Halle would be reopened. I was then at Lubeck. 
It was like passing from life to death. It is true I 
was no longer to be a Prussian. Halle lay in the 
new kingdom of Westphalia, and I should be a sub- 
ject of the upstart King Jerome. StiM, I should be 
at work, and that was my consolation. And if I 
had wished to still be a Dane, and live in ray native 
laijd, there was no longer security there, for Den- 
mark had at last been drawn into the entangle- 
ments of European politics, and was then just on 
the verge of war. So we prepared to go back to 
the old home at Halle. 



CHAPTER VII. 

RETURNS TO HALLE — DISCOtTRAGING REOPENING OF THE UNl- 
VERSITi' — PATRIOTISM OF THE PROFESSORS — KING JEROME 
BONAPARTE'S VISIT TO HALLE — INTERVIEW WITH JOHANNES 
VON MCLLER — SHATTERED CONDITION OF GER3IANY — GALL, 
THE FOUNDER OF PHRENOLOGY — GOETHE AND GALL — GALL'3 
PHRENOLOGICAL LECTURE AT HALLE — SCHELLING — ACHIM VON 
ARNIM — WILLIAM GRIMM, THE PHILOLOGIST — FOUNDING OF 
THE UNIVERSITY AT BERLIN — STEFFENS'S VIEWS OF NATURAL 
SCIENCE — LAST TRIALS AT HALLE. 

The feeling of pain with which I always returned 
to the scene of my labors after every long absence, 
to seat myself again among my books and papers, 
came over me with greater intenseness than ever as 
I journeyed back to Halle. It was like going to 
inspect the ruins of a great conflagration, and try 
to find some mementos of the lost mansion. And 
what I anticipated I found. The whole appearance 
of the part of the city where I lived was changed. 
Schleiermacher had remained some time in my house 
before leaving Halle, and finding everything in the 
order in which he left it made us feel his absence 
deeply. Wolf had left Halle and gone to Berlin, 
where all things portended the founding of a new 
university. Prussia, it was seen, would take her 
true place sooner through her intellect than through 
her arms. It was plain that the combined efforts of 

165 



166 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

William von Humboldt, Niebuhr, Schleiermachor, 
and Count Dohna, would make Berlin one of the 
central lights of science and learning. 

The opening of the university after so long an 
interruption was indeed discouraging. There was 
no general rejoicing over the recommencing of our 
duties, and when the lectures began there was a 
great difference discernible between the old flour- 
ishing times and this new and troubled epoch. The 
number of students who had assembled was ex- 
tremely small, scarcely three hundred in all, — not a 
quarter part of the old number. All trace of the 
past life and activity in study had vanished, and I 
felt every day more and more clearly that my life 
was running to waste. The number of those who 
attended my lectures was at the outset only six or 
seven ; they could all be assembled in my little 
study at home ; and, moreover, it was impossible 
for me now to deal with the speculative j^hilosophy. 
I had no listeners at all enrolled for my proposed 
course on experimental physics and mineralogy, and 
so had the most perfect leisure for carrying on my 
own studies. I afterwards learned what the opinion 
of my hearers was with regard to my style of lec- 
turing in those sad days. I had, they said, an ex- 
traordinary gift of persuading, so that while I was 
lecturing I brought home my special views with 
great power ; but the whole impression which I pro- 
duced was like a cloud of smoke ; and if one should 
compare what he heard from me with the cold, 
clear, shortly-defined teachings of the other profes- 
sors, mine lost all their force. 



REOPENING OF HALLE UNIVERSITY. 167 

At the commencement of the second half year 
after the reopening, it was resolved to commem- 
orate the event with solemn ceremonies. It is well 
known that at that time Halle had no university 
building, properly so called. A great, old edifice, 
belonging to the city, with lofty, desolate halls, con- 
nected by dark passageways, had been rented to 
the university for the lectures to be given in. The 
solemnities, which were to take place in this old 
structure, diflered not at all from the customary 
tedious affairs, the staple of which consists of long 
Latin orations. But the rector perpetuus of the 
university, Niemeyer, determined to give the affair 
an unusual touch of antiquity. The parti-colored 
caps and gowns of deceased professors had been 
kept with great care, and we were directed to ap- 
pear in the old costume. We looked, when arrayed, 
like embodied ghosts ; the whole affair made a fear- 
ful impression on my mind. It seemed as if we were 
wearing the shrouds of the dead. 

It may, perhaps, be supposed that the patriotism 
of the professors was extinct ; such, however, was 
by no means the case. There was, j^erhaps, no city 
in the new kingdom of Westphalia which was so 
attached to the old Prussian government as Halle. 
And it may readily be supposed that the defection 
of the great historian, Johannes von Miiller, justly 
regarded as one of the mightiest minds of Germany, 
could not be looked upon with very favorable eyes 
by us. Miiller was now the director-in-chief of all 
the universities of Westphalia. Overcome by the 
sad aspect of affairs, he had sought an interview 



168 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

with the Emperor Napoleon, and, after taking a pro- 
fessorship of Tubingen, he was called by the new 
government to assume the direction of all the sci- 
entific institutions of the kingdom of Westphalia. 
That his place, with all the honor which it conferred, 
must have been beset with extreme annoyances to 
him, in connection with his manner of attaining it, 
may readily be supposed, and we learned, indeed, 
that jMuUer was by no means forward in doing all 
that was expected of him by the government. 

The new King Jerome resolved to honor the uni- 
versity of Halle with a visit. He was accompanied 
by a large number of generals and courtiers, and 
amonsc them was Johannes von Miiller. I at first 
resolved not to appear with the other professors at 
the public presentation to the king, but I could not 
resist the desire to see the man who had been lifted 
by his brother out of a very ordinary rank ia life, 
compelled to put away his wife and marry a prin- 
cess, and then, without any show of personal merit 
or power, become a king. The whole corps of pro- 
fessors and of city officials were assembled at Nie- 
meyer's. The .gateway through which Jerome must 
pass as he entered the city was strewn with flowers, 
and beautiful girls stood there to welcome him with 
songs. I confess all this excited my indignation. 
For the reception of a true and tteloved king this 
would have been all right; but for an upstart — but 
what could we do ? 

While we stood crowded together, awaiting the 
arrival of the royal guest, our talk was curiously 
varied. Many of the professors expressed them- 



JEROME BONAPARTE VISITS HALLE. 169 

selves dryly enough. I held my peace, ashamed of 
being seen in such a company for such a purpose. 
My bitterness of feeling was seen, for I took no 
pains to conceal it. One professor, Rudiger, an im- 
mensely tall and awkward man, who had some little 
wit, made us all laugh by saying that the new coat- 
of-arms of Plalle would be exhibited to-day. I knew 
nothing of a new coat-of-arms for Halle, and I asked 
him what the desi2:n was. "An ass treadinor on 
roses," he answered. 

The king came. It was some time before he had 
taken his place in the audience-room and was ready 
to receive us. In the iflidst of his suite stood Je- 
rome, a truly unkingly figure, an insignificant physi- 
ognomy, youthful features, his eyes dull, his bearing 
ungracious. In a brief speech he assured us that 
the interests of science were dear to him, and that 
he should cherish the university. 

One fiq;ure which I saw amonoj the courtiers I 
could not look upon but with sorrow; it v/as Johan- 
nes von Miiller. He was stoutly and broadly built, 
not very easy in his bearing, indeed, but his features 
were both expressive and handsome. I could not 
help seeing that he shrunk from my eye. Clothed 
in the stiff and richly-gilded uniform of an ofiicial, 
he looked like a servant at a hotel, and I only missed 
the porter's staff to distinguish him from that func- 
tionary. 

After the audience was over I called on Miiller. 
More than three years had now passed since I made 
his acquaintance under very different circumstances 
from the present, and now we were brought face to 



170 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

face again. Both of us had been subject to the 
same hostile power, with no hope of deliverance ; 
in that our fortunes seemed to be alike — alike in 
boundless misfortune. That that was no real reason 
for the difference in our present situation was per- 
fectly apparent; — that he should be my highest direc- 
tor in scientific affliirs, and that I should be in terms 
of subjection to him. We talked on the v^iant 
deeds of the past and the fears of the present. All 
hope had passed from him, he had wholly given up, 
and did not conceal it. After I had spent a half 
hour with him he sorrow&lly reached me his hand ; 
tears stood in his eyes. ^'You must go," he said; 
"too long conversation between us will be suspi- 
cious." That was the man who had preserved and 
given expression to the great attempts of Germany 
in a mighty past ! Such an interview was to me 
•*ery painful. It was hard, indeed, to have the 
honor which I had cherished for him now turned 
into pity. 

Rarely broken' in upon by such occurrences as 
this, my life ran on in great quietness. That mental 
activity which had j^ervaded professors and students 
alike before the war had almost entirely vanished, 
and I was compelled to lead a hermit's existence, 
and live in the communion of my own thoughts. 
Xot only was the number of hearers much reduced, 
but the exchange of writing and letters on scien- 
tific subjects almost ceased. A cloud rested on the 
whole land. I had begun to love Germany, and to 
conceive of it, not as an aggregation of states, but as 
a unit, and I cared as little to see its soul robbed of 



GALL, THE FOUNDER OF PHRENOLOGY. 171 

its body, as I did to see a body when deprived of its 
soul. And when one of my friends tried to comfort 
me regarding the shattered condition of Germany 
by saying that political matters have no connection 
with scientific matters, and that science does not 
depend upon the boundaries of nations, I only felt 
how deeply and alone I was sunk in my grief over 
the broken and distracted land. 

We received a visit in Halle from the then re- 
nowned phrenologist, Gall. He had just been deliv- 
ering lectures in Berlin, where he had created a 
great sensation, and had found both defenders and 
opponents. Gall was a man of singular character, 
and his teachinsrs on the form of the skull and the 
influence which it exerts upon the talents, and, in- 
deed, the whole mental constitution, was, as is well 
known, grounded on his view of the brain as a con- 
tinuance of the spinal marrow, and thus of great 
scientific value. Gall belonged to the number of 
those men who believe they find great certainty in 
one-sided observations and in the combination of 
their results. I have scarcely ever met a man less 
troubled with doubts of any kind than he. He 
seemed to have no suspicion of the possibility of 
such doubts, and so he proceeded with a confidence 
which was wonderful. Wherever he came, not only 
that body of men crowded around him, who, troubled 
with problems which they could not solve, sought an 
easy solution, but also the most distinguished men. 
It is hard to convey an adequate idea of the sensa- 
tion which he produced. To have at constant com- 
mand such a convenient and unerring test of the 



172 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

talents and inclinations of men as the protuberances 
of the skull furnish, was, indeed, very attractive. 
Models of heads, numbered according to Gall's the- 
ory, such as those of great and loved authors, began 
to be found in every house, and even had a place 
on the toilet-tables of ladies. Instead of reading 
the works of a writer, or of listening to the melo- 
dies of a musical composer, in order to judge of the 
talents of either, people were inclined to make the 
acquaintance of candidates for popular honors in 
order to examine their heads, and decide from the 
protuberances of the skull whether to praise their 
works or condemn them. The mothers felt of the 
heads of their children to see whether a future thief 
or a murderer were among them. Happily, the 
means of deciding were not strongly marked enough 
for the popular apprehension. Over the organs of 
murder-loving and thievery the hand of the mother 
slipped lightly and did not discover them. On the 
other hand, her loving pressure had no difficulty in 
discerning the tokens of future greatness, and her 
gentle fingers passed at once to the eminences on 
whose heights she espied the promise of the coming, 
scholar, artist, lawgiver, or hero. Now-a-days we 
find few of the phrenological models which were 
once so much in vogue ; they must be looked for 
among the old-fashioned and dusty furniture in our 
garrets. And phrenologists are no longer to be 
found, excepting as a kind of sect in England, 
largely in Scotland, and scarcely at all in France. 

Gall first made his appearance as a lecturer in a 
large hall, and surrounded by the skulls of men and 



GGHTHE AXD GALL THE PHREN^OLOQIST. 173 

beasts. Every word displayed his perfect confidence 
in the truth of his theory, and he expressed himself 
with all the ease of conversation. The whole array 
was imposing, and liis comparing the skulls of men 
with those of beasts was somewhat novel and strik- 
ing. He compared the crania of notorious thieves 
with those of mngpies and of ravens ; those of mur- 
derers with those of Jigers and lions. A glimmering 
of truth was to be seen even in his erroneous views, 
and that which satisfied the superficial and light- 
minded was just what roused and disturbed deeper 
spirits. 

Goethe came over from Weimar merely to hear 
Gall. He had often, when in Halle, been a hearer 
of my lectures, but unseen by me. While I was at 
my desk, Goethe would enter an adjoining room, 
and, seating himself close by the door, follow me 
without my knowing it. I learned this fact from 
Wolf, the great philologist. 

I w^anted to see Goethe as Gall's hearer. The 
attitude and countenance of a listener in a pub- 
lic assembly have always been interesting to me. 
Goethe sat amid the auditory in a truly imposing 
manner. Even his still attention had somethino: 
commanding in it, and the tranquillity of his un- 
changed features could not conceal the interest he 
felt in the subject of the lecture. At his right sat 
Wolf, at his left, Reichardt. Gall proceeded with 
his exposition of the organs indicating various tal- 
ents, and in his free way of expressing himself he 
did not hesitate to select examples among his hear- 
ers to illustrate his theory. He spoke first of such 



174 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

skulls as have no specially-marked protuberances, 
but which, developed on all sides alike, indicate a 
perfectly-balanced character ; and a rich illustration 
of this, he said, was seen in the head of the great 
poet, who honored the lecture with his presence. 
Everybody looked at Goethe. He remained un- 
moved ; a slight expression of irritation struggled 
across his countenance, but it at once settled into a 
slight, ironical smile, which, however, did not affect 
the calm and imposing tranquillity of his features. 
He next came to the musical faculty or organ of 
harmony. Now it was the turn of my father-in-law. 
The protuberance which indicates "this organ lies 
close by the temples. In very truth, Reichardt was 
wonderfully developed just at that point ; and after 
Gall had called attention to his skulls and his copper- 
plates, he turned it to Reichardt. Now, my father- 
in-law was completely bald^ and with his crown 
covered with pomade and i^owxler, it really seemed 
like a skull got ready for the entertainment. At 
last he came to Wolf The organ of language lies 
just above the eyes and close by the nose, and it is 
a fact that Wolf was remarkably full just at that 
point. But Wolf wore glasses ; so, when Gall be- 
gan to speak of the organ of language. Wolf knew 
that he was to be served as Goethe and Reichardt 
had been before him. I was convulsed to see the 
veteran philologian meet the wishes of Gall. He 
quietly took off his glasses, turned his head in all 
directions, and looked very much as though his 
neck was a pivot on which a skull was turned by 
an automaton, instead of being held in the hand of 



WILLIAM GRIMM, THE PHILOLOGIST. 175 

the lecturer. The confirmation which Gall's theory- 
received in those three eminent men had great in- 
fluence on all the spectators. But after he had 
gone I delivered a few lectures on the subject, in 
which I showed the other sides which oppose Gall's 
theory, and which he had passed over without any 
mention. And, although the feeling of conviction 
which Gall produced soon passed away, his lectures 
had this one good effect, that they stimulated my 
friend, the great anatomist Reil, to enter upon that 
elaborate study of the brain which has added to his 
fame. 

Among the young men whose acquaintance en- 
riched my Halle life, were the two brothers Grimm, 
who were no less remarkable for their sincere, ear- 
nest, and disciplined character, than they were for 
their persistent devotion to study. William Grimm 
had long been employing himself in Cassel with 
translating old Danish poems. A trouble with the 
heart had brought him to Halle to consult Reil. He 
had a room in the same house in which I had a ten- 
ement, and for a year I saw him almost daily. He 
was then at work on Danish songs, and it was al- 
ways a pleasure to me when I could be of any help 
to him. His employment had in it something very 
attractive to me, and it was delightful to get glimp- 
ses into a study so far removed from my own, and at 
the same time to become acquainted with a man of 
so thorough scholarship and so kindly ways. Bren- 
tano was in Halle at the same time with Grimm, 
and of course the older German poetry was largely 
talked over among us. 



176 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

Otherwise my life in Ilalle was now very soli- 
tary. I lived, indeed, in the closest intimacy with 
my friend Blanc, and through his means became 
well acquainted with Rieniiacker, a somewhat dis- 
tinguished preacher of the Calvinistic or reformed 
church. Thus I was drawn during my stay in Halle 
entirely to the Calvinists, and was completely cut 
off from near relations with the Lutherans, the 
prevailing party there. Altliough Christianity was 
always growing more and more weighty in my 
eyes, yet I cared little for those differences which 
merely spring from clashing dogmas. I partook of 
the Lord's Supper in the Calvinistic church, and 
enjoyed it, interpreting it to myself after my own 
way. I mention these things because this indiffer- 
ence to matters of theology was one step, and a 
necessary one, in the development of my mind. 
The recollections of youth and childhood had then 
a secret power over me ; there passed over my soul 
a certain real though transitory unrest which would 
not be stilled, for I could not help remembering that 
there lived in Lutheran Denmark friends and rela- 
tives of mine, and in the best informed classes too, 
wdio would have been scarcely more shocked to 
learn that I had become a Catholic, than that I had 
partaken the Lord's Supper in a Calvinistic church. 

I must here speak of Schelling, and the manner in 
which he first attracted the attention of the general 
public, — a task not always accomplished by a pliilos- 
opher. The larger the number of his followers be- 
came, the more apparent became his efforts to lay a 
deeper foundation for metaphysical speculation than 



SCHELLJNO. Ill 

had ever been done. He is distinguished from al- 
most all other philosophers, I may say, in this, that 
when he had proclaimed his profoimdest results, and 
had exercised an influence upon his age which never 
could perish, he did not publish a system, complete 
in itself, and which should remain in the fixed form 
that its author should give it through all time ; a 
system like those which are educed by some in 
studying the philosophy of history, who find that 
their work when concluded is already on the way to 
ruin. Schelling was in the truest sense a philoso- 
pher, just for this reason, that while following the 
trains of his own thought, and battling with adver- 
saries on all sides, he had his hardest contest with 
his own self. The treatise on the nature of Human 
Freedom, which appeared in 1809, must have sur- 
prised those who had supposed that the logical 
formularies on which philosophy had hitherto rested 
were to be its eternal foundations. To me this 
treatise seemed all the more weighty, and drew me 
nearer to Schelling, because his view of history, as 
embracing the connection of man with his surround- 
ings, had seemed to me the sublimest theme that 
speculation could reach. That this conception lay 
at the basis of my first production, Frederick Schle- 
gel had shown shortly before the appearance of 
Schelling's treatise. That the relation of man with 
his surroundings must be an intimate one, must have 
been clear to one who looked at the world with the 
comprehensive view which I took, and who had 
studied, as I had done, the whole course of histori- 
cal development. And so, when Schelling's treatise 

12 



178 THE STOIiY OF MY CAREKR. 

appeared, I felt that I had found a great ally, and 
that the idea which had become so precious to mo 
would now become speedily adopted by all, and 
give a new impetus to the whole study of man. 

Among the friends whom I gained about this time 
was Achim von Arnim, wdio, before the war and 
in the fairest time of my life, made a long tarry at 
Giebichenstein, and lived in the closest intimacy 
with Reichardt and his family. He had a noble 
and truly marked figure ; he spoke little, always ap- 
peared quiet, even reserved, and yet his mildness was 
so attractive as to draw forth universal confidence. 
He had at first devoted himself passionately to the 
study of physics, and in Gilbert's Annals are some 
treatises by him which called forth much attention. 
When I knew him he had wholly given up these 
studies, but he took some interest in new discov- 
eries. He had become wholly a poet. 

In poetical literature there was a general charac- 
ter widely difierent from that which prevailed in 
philosophical literature. In the latter it could not 
be denied that Kant had laid the foundation of a 
new school ; that the discovery that all visible ob- 
jects move according to established laws around the 
unchanging sun of the consciousness, was to phi- 
losophy what the theory of Coj^ernicus was to as- 
tronomy. Still, Kant was crowded out of sight by 
later men, and the Kantians, as they called them- 
nelves, played a subordinate part in the subsequent 
developments of philosophy. It was necessarily so ; 
io\\ although Kant's system did not cease to be the 



FOUXDING OF UNIVERSITY OF BERLIN. 179 

basis for those which came after, yet it seeined fixed 
and ill-adapted to the wideuiDg wants of men. 

In poetry it was different. That Goethe had 
inaugurated a new epoch, was generally confessed ; 
the opposition, which wanted to adhere to the 
contracted views of the past, was put down by 
the Schlegels and Tieck, and regarded as of lit- 
tle authority. All young jDoets crowded around 
Goethe ; and as it was a necessity of the times for 
those who would be philosophers to praise Kant, 
60 was it of those who would be poets to extol 
Goethe. There was thus formed a kind of genius- 
worship which assumecL for itself a narrow exclusive- 
ness, and which succeeded in layinix the foundation 
for that unshaken European celebrity which Goethe's 
mighty spirit had accorded to it with wonderful 
unanimity in a time when no talents, however splen- 
did, seemed likely to receive any recognition. 

The founding of the university of Berlin is in 
point of fact one of the most important movements 
in the history of modern Germani^. If we compare 
the mamitude of the work with the orio-inal in- 
tention of government concerning it, we must be 
amazed. The government would have regarded 
Ilalle as a favorable model to follow, and to attain 
to the liberal endowment of Halle would have been 
viewed as all that the public needs demanded. It 
would have rejected at once the thought of endow- 
ing a university adequate to meet the wants of the 
age. And yet, just at the time when the country 
seemed half ruined, when all resources seemed cut 
oflj when one of the richest provinces was in the 



180 THE STOIiY OF MY CAREER. 

hands of the enemy, and a sorrowful future seemed 
to await the whole land, an effort was put forth 
which, even after ten years of perfect peace, would 
have seemed incredible. And how was the grand 
result broudit about ? Bv the conviction that Prus- 
sia was called in this time of her humiliation to es- 
tablish a central point of influence which should 
be felt through all departments of life and service 
throughout Germany. 

In fact the tone of feeling in Berlin during this 
sad time was wonderful. The capital was occupied 
by hostile troops, the king held himself near the 
Russian frontier, and yet, while the city and the 
land w^ere outwardly conquered, only a fragment of 
the people felt subdued in spirit. The enemy had 
taken the fortresses, routed the army, and made us 
almost weaponless ; but there were forces rallying, 
unseen by our foes, which would take the place 
of those we had lost, and there were victories 
daily gained which were never publicly recorded. 
Our victors could ngt see whither the currents were 
tending. Men like Schleiermacher, who could dis- 
cern the spirit of the times, were joined in close 
alliance, and the whole temper of the country was 
roused. Never before were king and people in such 
intimate sympathy. The army itself eagerly looked 
forward to the time when it should retrieve its dis- 
grace. When the war began every one was taken 
by surprise, the army was made powerless by the 
sudden attack, the fortresses opened their gates be- 
fore they were fairly invested ; but now on the 
distant eastern frontier the surprise was past, the 



THE GERMAN CHARACTER. 181 

courage of the army revived, and the bravery dis- 
played at Dantzig and Graiidenz ought to have 
taught the enemy that the old German spirit had re- 
turned. From this time every Prussian felt inwardly 
strong. 

At that critical epoch Fichte stepped forward, 
and with wonderful courao^e uttered words of free- 
dom under the very eyes of our victors. Schleier- 
macher, too, gave strength to the growing German 
feeling, and added the sanctions of religion to the 
struggle for hearth and altar. Both of these men 
spoke to the heart of the nation. It will always be 
hard to gain Germans over to any superficial scheme 
which looks only to the present hour. The French 
are different. The Frenchman undertakes the work 
of* the hour without any harassing doubts. He has 
no concern with past or future ; all that he has to 
do with is the work just before him. For the ac- 
complishment of that, everything is laid under con- 
tribution. The German cannot look at things in 
this way ; many a doubt perplexes him, and the 
favorable moment is past before he is ready to act. 
His whole life is penetrated with speculation, reach- 
ing out backwards and forwards, and uniting all 
circumstances in a chain of cause and effect. Every 
deed is in itself but a link in this chain. The little 
facts of daily life do not absorb him ; he glances 
at them and lets them fly. And yet his spirit is 
always active ; events are woven together and their 
issues upon ages to come are made apparent. So 
Germany was called upon to lead in the Reforma- 
tion, and so this war of freedom from the French 



182 TEE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

yoke was made by far-reaching German minds the 
means of giving our nation a character which will 
unfold itself for generations to come. 

All hope resting upon Prussian prowess had dis- 
appeared. Every one looked with confidence to the 
founding of the new university at Berlin. That city 
had before been by no means a central light in liter- 
ature and science. The French superficiality intro- 
duced by Voltaire had first got possession, and this 
was at last driven out by the genuine German feel- 
ing pervading even the uneducated classes. Still, a 
kind of half-German, half-French Academy existed 
there, conferring little credit upon the city, and 
unable to effect any perfect result. And yet this 
city, little thought of by Germans, possessed by ene- 
mies, — this wasted city was suddenly to be trans- 
formed into the centre of the brightest hopes for 
Germany. 

The founding of the university was a grand event. 
The most varied voices were heard in consultation 
about it, and William von Humboldt conducted all 
the plans. The counsels of such men as Wolf, 
Schleiermacher, and Reil, were ijiuch valued. All 
the arrangements were planned upon the most lib- 
eral scale ; the most eminent scholars were invited 
to its chairs, and invitations thither were eagerly 
sought. Only in relation to speculative philosophy 
were there serious doubts. At the outset it was 
the deliberate purpose to establish a philosophical 
chaos; a great contrast with what was afterwards 
determined by the authorities. The value of specu- 
lation in its relation to German culture was granted, 



STEFFEXS'S NATURAL SCIENCE. 18JJ 

but not openly confessed. Natural history seemed 
to be a department which would be particularly 
neglected. There seemed to be a great inclination 
to adopt the atomic theory as the basis of researcli 
in philosophical inquiries, merely because it had met 
w^th great favor in England and France. Thero 
was a strong inclination to accept Kant's views, 
and to adapt them to an empirical construction of 
natural sciences. William von Humboldt thought, 
however, that no philosophical system existed which 
demanded recognition. With regard to men, his 
view was that it was best for youth of promise to 
pass through the rank of tutor (jrrivat docent), and 
rise to eminence as they should merit it. One pro- 
fessor of philosophy would certainly be needed, and 
for that post Fichte was already in Berlin; and, was 
another needed, Schleiermacher, besides being a 
theologian, was very deeply read in philosophy. 

I will not deny that I cherished very ardent hopea 
of being transferred to Berlin. I saw myself situa- 
ted in a field from which selections would most 
probably be made, and it was a long time before I 
surrendered my hopes. I did not fully realize what 
stood in my way. The serious view which I took 
of natural science as a unit, independent and com- 
prehensive, the foundation of a thorough insight 
into nature, was regarded as mere folly. This was 
the most cherished thought of my life, yet I found 
myself standing alone in it ; they who were called 
philosophers lived in abstractions wholly sundered 
from nature ; while naturahsts went to the opposite 
extreme of rejecting everything which could not be 



184 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

brought under the cognizance of the senses. But in 
my view nature does not admit of that dialectical 
play which has within late years found such sport 
in historical studies. I believe that natural science 
has in every age had some special idea within itself, 
growing out of the exigencies of the times. As men 
knew more of nature, natural science went on ex- 
panding and gaining a comprehensiveness, linking 
several branches together, and showing the law of 
unity within them all. And I am fully persuaded 
that a sound system of natural science will be the 
basis of all knowledge ; but its development is the 
work of time, not of any one man. In this convic- 
tion I stand, almost alone to-day, as I stood almost 
alone then. 

The struggle which I had to meet was, however, no 
open one, in which I might, perhaps, win some honor. 
It was hidden from public view, and I was power- 
less. Schleiermacher, who had great influence in the 
affairs of the Berlin university, wrote to me often. 
My call thither seemed sometimes just at hand. 
Suddenly everything changed. I was charged with 
forging ray facts, and with so misstating them as 
to lead my hearers into error. I answered tliese 
charges through the agency of a friend by saying 
that attacks of this kind had no value unless they 
were open; and if, being oj^enly assailed, I should 
be found guilty, I entreated not to be spared. I 
stated that my published works had been for years 
before the world without being attacked by any 
naturalist. I admitted that the philosophy of na- 
ture regarded facts from a different stand-point from 



STEFFENS'S NATURAL SCIENCE. 185 

the science of natural history. The founding of 
that philosophy as a province of thought must be 
the work of time. What seemed to be a perversion 
of facts was only the result of taking a stand-point 
of observation different from theirs. And even if 
there should be an elSfort put forth to nip in the bud 
the science of nature which I was seeking to estab- 
lish, yet its influence would not be lost ; it had 
already gained ground enough to maintain and per- 
petuate itself And of this science as I compre- 
hended it, I could say in the woi'ds of Gamaliel, 
"If this be of God it will endure; if not, it will not 
be able to stand." I felt in my heart persuaded that 
natural science had reached a point where its com- 
prehensive character would be seen, that it was the 
true development of our age. I called attention to 
the fact that the naturalists of Berlin formed already 
quite a school, and that their names might be joined 
with the savans of London and Paris. My own 
work, I stated, would be to forego any mere empiri- 
cism, any claims to great discoveries, and all re- 
searches which demanded exceedingly protracted 
investii^ations. I would still remain an humble 
.learner in this field, and only make use of those 
facts whose existence should be confessed by all. 

But all these statements and explanations proved 
unavailing. The general distrust in my scientific 
accuracy was too deeply seated to be moved. 

But this was not all. A man whose name was 
commonly regarded as a pillar in science, although 
among naturalists his claims were seriously doubted, 
was pointed out as my opponent. In a letter from 



136 THE STORY OF MY C A REE It. 

Schleicrmacher, I read, "You are, as I hear, openly 
attacked by Goethe. You must be roused up to 
meet him as openly. However much you owe to 
him, however much you honor liim, you must not 
spare him." The positiveness with which Schleier- 
macher wrote surprised me. I had just received a 
friendly letter from Goethe, and in the second vol- 
ume of his work on Light he had spoken with favor 
of me. 

The death of my children, the growing pecuniary 
embarrassments which oppressed me, my constrained 
position as a teacher, tended constantly to dampen 
what hope still remained to me. Danger of every 
kind seemed to surround me. Professor Sternberg, 
of Marburg, was shot, and I might be made in like 
way a victim to the machinations of my enemies. 
Just then, too, Reil went to Berlin, and with him 
vanished my last prop. Nothing seemed to remain 
for me at Halle. 

I then made a visit to Berlin. Reil and Schleier- 
macher joined in my behalf, and asserted that they 
could not spare me ; that my views of nature must 
be the basis of all their teachings. But even* this 
decisive step was unavailing. They then privately 
stepped in to remove the pecuniary embarrassments 
which stood in my way. They promised to support 
mo out of their own income till my efforts should 
induce the conviction that their services wonld be 
unnecessary. Still, the enmity of my opponents was 
too formidable, and nothing could be done in my 
behalf Yet the zealous friendship of these two 
men w;is very cheering to me, — one of them the 



FRIEXDS IN ADVERSITY. 187 

most subtle of dialecticians, the other the most 
patient and thorough of naturalists, — and I gained 
a confidence for the future which was of cjreat ser- 
vice in those times of trouble. How could I 
despair when two such men stood up to sustain 
and help me ? 



.CHAPTER VIII. 

CALL TO BRESLAU — TRIP TO JENA AND BERLIN — NAPOLEON'S 
RECEPTION AT WEIMAR — GOETHE — DINNER AT GOETHE'S — HIS 
ONSLAUGHT AT DINNER — SCHLEIERMACHER AS PROFESSOR AT 
BERLIN — THE FACULTY AT BERLIN — BOECKH, BEKKER, NIE- 
BUHR — GATHERING* OF BERLIN SAVANS — ARRIVAL AT BRES- 
LAU — STEFFENS'S LOVE OF GERMANY — COMMENCEMENT OF 
PROFESSORSHIP AT BRESLAU. 

And here commenced a nisw epoch in my life. 
Von Schuckmann, the minister of state, who con- 
trolled the aifairs of all the Prussian universities 
after Count Dohna withdrew from that post, deter- 
mined to revive the languishing university at Frank- 
fort on the Oder, to transfer it to Breslau, and to 
join it with the Theological Seminary in that city. 
Silesia, the richest province in the kingdom, with a 
million and a half of inhabitants, was without a uni- 
versity, and there was evidently no need for one at 
Breslau in addition to that at Frankfort. Schuck- 
mann's desig^n was to transfer the Frankfort stu- 
dents .to Breslau, as a nucleus, to give the older 
professors an emeritus rank, to retain the younger, 
and to call able men from abroad. The university 
of Frankfort, being old, was rich ; and its funds 
would be very serviceable in commencing at Breslau 
on the scale which he wished. Bredow undertook 
the duty of carrying out the details of the plan, and 

188 



CALL TO BRESLAU. 189 

worked with great zeal. He came to Halle evi- 
dently with the design of securing able men for the 
professorial chair. I was then lecturing on physics, 
and was engaged chiefly in galvanic experiments. 
Bredow attended one of my lectures, and then invit- 
ed me to his room and asked me if I should like to 
be called to Breslau. The reader can conceive my 
joy. A quite attractive salary was proposed ; the 
thing was soon settled, and in a few weeks I received 
my formal call. 

But before I could enter upon my new and iso- 
lated life at Breslau, and tear myself from a home 
which had become very dear to me, I could not re- 
sist the desire to visit ray old friends at Jena, and 
especially Goethe, who, although not very aged, was 
now about sixty. Two years before, in the winter of 
1809, I had with my family visited Fromann, who 
seemed one of the nearest friends I had at Jena. 
He and his wife had received us with a most cordial 
welcome. We spent the last days of the year at 
his house ; and the few weeks which I spent there I 
shall not forget. Never did I feel more clearly how 
tragic an element had been in my life. It was in a 
great measure through the cheerful and social influ- 
ence of Fromann's family that my youth had been 
so indescribably rich in Jena, and his house had 
been the gathering-place where the great lights of 
the town had gathered themselves together. Here 
appeared Goethe ; here I saw the Schlegels, Tieck, 
and Schelling. It seemed to be the field on which 
these knightly spirits had celebrated their spiritual 
tournaments, and had carried oflT their victorious 



190 THK STORY OF MY CAREER. 

palms. The dawn of the new century, announcing 
a new era for science, here began to gleam ; but that 
day of promise had passed without its fulfilment. 
Political changes had disturbed old friendships, and 
with the loss of our old national feeling of unity, 
those knightly contests had all ended. And when 
I came again to Jena, and found myself surrounded 
by all that was left from those fair days, it was nat- 
ural that I should give free expression to my feel- 
ings. In Halle, where I lived among friends, I had 
been in the habit of uttering my thoughts on the 
French domination without reserve. But my Jena 
friends were amazed when I expressed myself with 
them in ray wonted manner. The position of the 
Duke of Weimar was certainly an unenviable one. 
In the days of his flight, when in his absence the 
duchess had to receive the exasperated Napoleon, 
she had borne herself in so imposing a way that he 
was forced to respect and even to reverence her. 
The duke was suspected by the French Emperor, 
the duchy was overrun by French spies, and it is 
plain that it was necessary to suppress every expres- 
sion which might compromise the Weimar court. I 
soon saw this, and during my stay in Jena I gov- 
erned myself accordingly. 

But all the more was I surprised at the power 
which Goethe exercised over all the judgments of 
the circle in which I moved. But when it is re- 
membered how long tliis royal spirit had ruled in 
Weimar, and been honored as the mightiest in Ger- 
many; how the intense mental conflicts into which 
I had been plunged raged most fiercely around him 



cor: THE. 191 

without affecting his nature, and then had died 
away leaving him still unchanged, still standing as 
the one only beacon left, and only gleaming the 
more brightly in the decj^ening gloom, it can be 
understood why he ruled with such unquestioned 
supremacy all the minds who came under his influ- 
ence. 

Already, in the opening years of the century, 
there were some who saw that Goethe's journeys to 
Italy, particularly the second, formed the turning- 
point in his development. The sharply-defined indi- 
viduality, the fearless confidence of his earlier years, 
then seemed to cease ; to take their place had come 
a quiet humility which did not betoken such strength 
and richness of genius as the former qualities had 
done. The later manifestations of his mind were 
commonly supposed to be well and truly hit off by 
Novalis, in his happy saying that Goethe loved less 
to deal with subjects which were greater than he, 
than with those which he could perfectly master, 
and in whose delineation he was most at home. I 
shared in this judgment of him, indeed, but the 
results which were drawn from it I could noways 
perceive were legitimately drawn, and they seemed 
to me all the more untrue, in view of the entire de- 
pendence on his judgment which was manifested in 
the circle around him, and which seemed to grow 
even when the infirmities of age were creeping 
upon him and cramping and enfeebling his powers. 
The earlier writings of Goethe had had a charm for 
me which the later ones lacked. The great power 
throni^h which the langnnge of his people seemed 



192 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

in his hands transformed into another and a nobler 
tongue, the strength which, when he began to speak, 
went forth in an influence which had no Hrnits, the 
invincible might with which he attacked and over- 
threw what seemed to him nnworthily idolized, — all 
these had seemed to me in my early years like 
trumpet-tones wiiich summoned me, too, to victory. 
His later works did not fulfil those older expecta- 
tions. His views then seemed to be in agreement 
with the times in which he lived. But I afterwards 
saw that his life, and the works which gave his life 
its value, were a complete history in themselves, and 
were unrelated to the great era through which he 
was passing. There is hardly another author whose 
life has been so parallel to the manner in which a 
state develops itself, and where the epochs of youth, 
manhood and old age have so marked a historical 
rise and decline, as Goethe. In studying his life, no 
stage of his development can be passed by. Even 
the apparently retrograde course of his later years 
has its significance, if we look at his life as a unit. 
In his last works there can still be discerned the 
tokens of the youth mightily struggling to express 
itself, and in his earliest works can be seen that ear- 
nest effort to attain perfect symmetry which charac- 
terized the works of his declining years. And it is 
because this is developed in it that Eckermann's 
book has its great value in my eyes; for there 
Goethe appears as one banished — one who has bid 
adieu to the Avorks of his life, and who wanders like 
a majestic old man among the ruins of a great, fallen 
state. It was not exhaustion which came upon him 



GOETHE'S DEVELOPMENT. 193 

in his old age ; it was rather the slow and gi'adual 
decay of a mind which enclosed, as few minds do, 
its own liistory within itself. And, therefore, in 
Goethe we must carefully discriminate between the 
process of unfolding in his vehement youth and the 
steps of his matured mind, where, instead of prog- 
ress, we find a growing tendency to narrowness. 
The transition from these two sections of his exist- 
ence contains the secret of his life ; it was what he 
could not discover, and what at the same time he 
knew ; it brought into unity what he would do and 
what he could do, and showed in a manner not to 
be gainsaid that the former outweighed the latter. 
It was for him to amass literary treasures no less 
precious than the art treasures which have come to 
us from the Greeks; to others, no less perplexed than 
he with the confused political problems of the time, 
he left the task of looking forward and determining 
what was to be done. And when Goethe gave up 
the future as a thing in which he had no part to 
perform, his spirit began to display the narrowness 
which marked his old age ; not that his creative 
genius was lamed at all, but merely that it with- 
drew within itself, and became a thing of the past. 
Even what the passing times, so rich in all the fruits 
of human speculation, gave him, contributed only 
to the formation of his own character alone, and 
"svhat promised a glowing future for the other mighty 
spirits of the time, was of worth to him only to solve 
the problem of his own past life. He died in the 
largest sense full of years. It was his task to watch 
over and cherish his life to the last, not so much 

13 



194 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

for what it should be as for what it had been ; and 
when his veins -began to stiffen, and his Umbs to bo 
heavy and clumsy, and his tongue to be slow, when 
he seemed to walk like an old man among the 
graves of buried friends, he still retained that noble 
bearing which showed that he turned to the past to 
read the undeciphered riddles of the future. His 
death was in perfect harmony with his life. He had 
proudly turned away from his times ; in his old age 
he did not seek to learn of any living man, but 
haughtily stood alone ; but we, looking upon that 
fading form, were compelled to listen to its enfee- 
bled words till they ceased at last in death. 

Goethe came over to Jena, and I saw him for 
the first time after seven years of separation. His 
presence had a powerful influence upon me. He ac- 
companied me to the mineralogical collection, which, 
under the management of Prof. Lentz, had become 
valuable. I was then busily employed on my Hand- 
book of Mineralogy. Goethe was a well-known 
geognostical dilettant; his repeated journeyings to 
Carlsbad had drawn him into numerous geological 
investigations, and our conversation was not con- 
fined to one direction, but ranged over the whole 
field of science. We spoke of his optical studies, 
and of his views on the metamorphosis of bones. 
Goethe complained bitterly of the manner in which 
some naturalists had abused his confidence, ])ublish- 
ing his discoveries, communicated to them by him- 
self, as if they were their own. This conversation 
took me back to the old times. Goethe became 
more amiable and cheerful, and I enjoyed a degree 



DINNER AT GOETHE'S. 196 

of happiness which for years I had not experienced. 
Goethe invited my wife, Fromann's family, and my- 
self, over from Jena to dine with him. We found 
at the table besides Goethe's wife only Meyer, Ilie- 
mer, and the poet Werner. Goethe was very lively; 
the conversation turned on a number of subjects, 
and the unconstrained and yet suggestive remarks 
of our host pleased and exhilarated us all. Ho 
could make himself a2jreeable even to the ladies. 

At length he turned to Werner, who had had lit- 
tle part in the conversation thus far. " Now, Wer- 
ner," said he, in a quiet, but at the same time author- 
itative way, "have you, nothing with which you 
can entertain us, — no poems which you can read to 
us ? " Werner plunged his hand into his pocket, 
and hastily drew out a mass of crumpled, dirty 
papers, so that I was amazed, and by no means ap- 
proved of the request of Goethe, which promised 
to extinguish all free and interesting conversation. 
Werner began to repeat a number of sonnets in a 
shocking manner. At last I was compelled to give 
some attention to one of them. The subject w^as 
the beautiful appearance of the full moon as it 
swam in the clear Italian sky. He compared it to 
a holy wafer. This stiff simile enraged me, and 
had on Goethe an unpleasant effect ; he turned to 
me. "IN'ow, Steffens," asked he, outwardly calm, 
W'hile he tried to suppress his exasperation, "what 
say you to that ? " " Mr. Werner," I answered, 
"had the kindness to read a sonnet to me a few 
days ago, in which he expressed his regret that he 
had come to Italy too late, and I now believe that 



196 THE STORY OF MY CAREER, 

he was right. I am too much of a naturalist to wish 
for an exchansie between the moon and a hallowed 
wafer; the emblem of our faith loses as much in the 
comparison as the moon." On this Goethe gave up 
to his feelings, and expressed himself with a warmth 
which I had never before seen in him. "I hate," 
said he, "this bald religious sentimentalism ; do not 
believe that I will show it any quarter. Neither on 
the stage nor here will I listen to it, in whatever 
guise it may appear." After he had talked in this 
strain for some time, and with louder and louder 
tones, he became quiet. "You have destroyed the 
pleasure of my dinner," said he, seriously ; you know 
that such pitiful poetical pretences are an abomina- 
tion to me ; you have made me forget my duty to 
the ladies." He now gained complete command of 
himself, turned with language of apology to his wife 
and mine, began to talk on indifferent subjects, but 
rose soon and retired. We then saw that he felt 
himself deeply wounded, and that he was going to 
compose his mind in solitude. Werner was like one 
annihilated. 

Wlien I visited Goethe before, Riemer was not, as 
now, a member of the family. He was then private 
tutor to the children of William von Humboldt, 
and Avas then in Italy. I met him for the first time 
now at Goethe's table. Shortly after dinner I went 
where Goethe was, and found him perfectly com- 
posed, and having seemingly forgotten the affiiir. 
He entered into cheerful conversation, and showed 
me some optical phenomena which were interesting 
him much at that time. When I left him, Riemer 



GOETHE'S ONSLAUGHT AT DIXNER. 197 

waited upon me evidently with something on his 
mind. He began to speak of the affair at the din- 
ner-table. "What you have seen to-day," said he, 
"is of such rare occurrence that I scarcely remem- 
ber ever witnessing anything like it before." I as- 
sured him that eleven years before, when I saw 
Goethe often, I had neither w^itnessed such an affair 
nor did I believe such possible. Riemer went on 
to say, "You know how everybody busies himself 
about Goethe ; how all his expressions, and the least 
things which he does, are caught up, and become 
themes for discussion in the newspapers. I must 
ask you to keep what j^assed to-day from getting 
into print." My first emotion at this request was 
indignation. "I may not presuppose," said I, "that 
you know anything about me ; had you been ac- 
quainted with me, you would have seen that your 
request was entirely unnecessary ; but this day has 
been so deeply interesting to me, and it has been 
such a rare experience to live to witness the majes- 
tic scorn of the great man of our age over the sickly 
sentimentalities of the times, that you need not fear 
ray using it for town gossij). Your request is a nat- 
ural one, but it was not needed with me." 

Notwithstanding all, the affair got abroad, and 
was in every one's mouth. A great civil calamity 
could not have made more uproar in the circles of 
Jena and Weimar. I could have believed myself 
taken back to the times of Louis XIY., with 
Goethe's house the palace of a mighty king whose 
anger, fraught with the most dire effects, shook all 
the neighborhood with fear. 



198 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

I parted from the great poet then for the hnst 
time. He was sixty years of age ; he lived yet 
twenty years, but I never saw him again. He was 
all calmness when I left him; every trace of the 
an2:er of that well-remembered hour at dinner had 
left him, and he was his own serene self again. His 
unruffled brow was the fit mirror of his untroubled 
mind. 

On the twenty-third of December, 1809, the cab- 
inet order which called the university of Berlin into 
being was signed. On the ninth of September, 
1810, the real opening occurred. Men of wide rep- 
utation filled all the faculties. In the theological, 
Schleiermacher stood before all others. There was 
no other whose impression upon the character of 
the whole population of Berlin was like Schleier- 
macher's ; no one who so thoroughly difiused a 
national, a religious, and a thoughtful spirit, as he. 
The city was, so to speak, transformed by him, and 
in the course of a few years one would look almost 
in vain for the traces of the superficiality which had 
60 long ruled there. What gave him his surpassing 
influence was this : that he was a true Christian, a 
patriotic citizen, a bold man, pure in soul, and in 
intellect strong, clear, and decided. Even children 
thronged to listen to him, and men and women of 
all classes in life. His resolve to offer himself in 
the service of his country had a kind of contagious 
power, and his brave way of not merely waiting for 
better times, but working to create them, kindled 
general admiration. His strong, kindling, and al- 
ways cheerful spirit worked like tinder. For the 



THE FACULTY AT BERLIN. 199 

forces which he set in motion were no scattered and 
feeble powers ; they were the unifying forces set in 
movement by a mind of the most comprehensive 
grasj).* Thus working and swaying Berlin, I found 
my friend as he was entering upon that section of 
his liff*, the worth of which those who knew him 
can fully acknowledge. 

Savigny, called from Landshut to Berlin, was at 
the head of the law faculty. He was even then the 
founder of a new school, which, despite all attacks, 
continually grew in power. Reil's name and repu- 
tation gave eclat to the medical department. Hufe- 
land, too, was regarded a very valuable acquisition. 

In the philosophical department was Fichte, who, 
although surrounded by opponents, yet exerted a 
deep influence. His natural genius, his sharp power 
of analysis, and his outspoken patriotism, gained 
him many friends who had no sympathy with his 
views. But he laid the foundation for a new phi- 
losophy of life, which, in shifting times like those, 
was of great value. The confusion into which all 
religious and scientific and municipal affairs were 
thrown, led every one to see how great the neces- 
sity was for a comprehensive intellect to appear 
which should grasp and master them all. And such 
a man must be trusted as a guide even if he were 
not completely understood. And Fichte proved 
himself able to meet the wants of the times. 
Through his influence was initiated that series of 
measures which resulted in the introduction of a 
system of education similar to that which Pestalozzi 
had introduced into Switzerland. Fichte did not 



200 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

attempt to change the present, but he would form 
the future. Few then understood the power and 
skill involved in that movement, as I confess I my- 
self did not, till events proved of what worth it was 
to the nation. 

But Fichte's well-known relation to Suhelling, the 
manner in which he had expressed himself regard- 
ing me, and the consciousness that my sympathy 
with nature had no response in him, held me aloof 
from him. Boeckh and Bekker were called to the 
chairs of philology in the university. It is well 
known how much the latter has in his quiet and 
thorough way advanced his department, and how 
much the former, who, even when called to Berlin, 
had attained a wide reputation for deep insight into 
the modes of living and thinking among the Greeks, 
has done to restore and further the study of anti- 
quity. The celebrated Niebuhr, after devoting him- 
self for some years to the weightiest duties of the 
state, especially in the financial department, and 
wielding a great influence in that position, withdrew 
from those duties, and entered upon those of a pro- 
fessor. The first lectures in the new university were 
delivered on the fifteenth of October, 1810. 

Never did an institution of learning enter upon 
its career more brilliantly than this ; never was the 
value of a great university more appreciated than 
here. We are referred with great pride to the 
founding of Gottingen, a hundred years before, as 
the most successful cflbrt of the kind, and the 
founder of Gottingen is indeed immortal. But that 
work was carried through in times of peace ; the 



GATHERINGS OF BERLIN S A VANS. 201 

most eminent scholars were in secure possession 
of their reputation, and so the choice of professors 
was an easy one. A rich land easily furnished the 
needed means, and the king of England, as the ruler 
of Hanover, stood as the foster-father of the whole 
undertaking. But in Berlin a university arose with 
unprecedented quickness at a time when all the sup- 
ports of the state seemed shattered, and in a time of 
deepest poverty money flowed forth in ample sup- 
plies. I never heard a word of criticism on the 
amounts which were required to found this noble 
and enduring monument of the wisdom and pat- 
riotism of the founders of the university of Berlin. 

However various, however antagonistic even, the 
views of the Berlin professors might be, yet there 
was in those palmy days a tie of union between 
them all. How happy Niebuhr felt himself in his 
intimate companionship with kindred spirits ; how 
zealously he gave himself to his classic work on 
Roman History, after a long interruption, every 
reader of his interesting letters ^ knows. The phi- 
lologists, under the promptings of Schleiermacher, 
formed an association of great attractiveness. Their 
meetings were friendly gatherings, where they busied 
themselves with some Greek author, and where, it 
cannot be doubted, great gains were made tg the 
cause of science. The naturalists, too, had their 
meetings, whose influence extended over the whole 
of Europe. 

This painting of the beginning of the university 

> Life and Letters of Niebuhr. New York : Harper and Brothers. 



202 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

of Berlin may seem highly colored, but it is entirely 
impartial. I am writing the history of what I have 
lived to see, and I cannot deny that I looked with 
the fondest hopes at the opening of an institution 
with which I associated but one object of regi-et, 
and that was that I had no share in it. When I 
saw Wolf, Horkel, Reil, and Schleiermacher there, I 
certainly felt like one in exile, and yet my joy was 
pure, and my hopes for it strong. 

Viewed from the rel.itions under which I received 
and accepted the call to Breslau, the prospect of 
going to live in Silesia was by no means agreeable. 
I had a prejudice against the province ; the Silesians 
were, in my imagination, a half-enslaved people. 
The predominance of the Catholic population, too, 
was not to my liking, and Breslau, in special, was 
inclined to bigotry in this faith. Nor could I for- 
get that Frederick the Great tolerated the Jesuits 
in this jn'ovince after the pope himself had taken 
away the rights and privileges of this order in many 
professed Catholic lands. It seemed to me, that in 
a fit of feeling peculiar to him he had failed to dis- 
cern that they were among his greatest enemies, 
and that he had showed them too great leniency. 
It was, in my eyes, a sign of bad omen that the 
university was to be established in the building for- 
merly occupied as the Jesuits' college. 

Besides, the literary reputation of Breslau was 
not especially attractive, and there was a certain 
marked provincialism to be detected not only in 
books, but in reviews, in newspapers, and in conver- 
sation. There was, also, a narrow family and clique 



ARRIVAL AT BRESLAU. 203 

ppii'it everywhere discernible, bat made more par- 
.tic'iilarly manifest at funerals, birthdays, and mar- 
riages. But what made my position especially 
repulsive was, that, having gone into voluntary 
exile from my own land, and having given my 
whole heart to the cause and hopes of Germany, I 
did not feel inclined to go into a district wiiere all 
broad, national feeling was merged in mere local in- 
terests. Almost fourteen years I had lived in my 
adopted country, and I was now wedded to all that 
concerned its weal. I had watched the rising of 
that great spirit of philosophical inquiry which the 
opening of this century witnessed, and the men to 
whom I was indebted for my own enthusiasm in 
the cause of learning. Among them I had hoped 
to live and die ; and it was a hard thought that I 
must take up my abode in a district which, though 
German in name, was as outside of the German na- 
tional life and feeling as if it were still an Austrian 
province. And yet, when I considered the shattered 
condition of Germany, its dark and uncertain future, 
and the ruin of the once-flourishing Halle university, 
I felt that I could even welcome any new course of 
life which should take me away from these sad ruins 
of what had been so great and promising. 

Breslau was at that time in a very disagreeable 
condition. The dry sumnjer had left only an empty 
river-bed to the Oder ; the city lay in a parched 
tract, and, surrounded by its levelled walls, it had 
the appearance of a place which had been taken and 
made defenceless. There were then from sixty to 
seventy thousand inhabitants, though since then 



204 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

the number has greatly increased. And yet the 
city had a certain imposing appearance. The high 
houses, the huge store-houses, all indicated a place 
of importance ; churches and old edifices testified 
to a not insignificant civic history, and the whole 
aspect of the place may be compared to that of an 
old man bearing in his face the marks of an active, 
honored and useful life. 

The people were more friendly and more worthy 
of notice than I at first supposed, and many features 
in their character pleased me much. At the time 
of our removal to Breslau they were in a good deal 
of excitement ; the professors and the students from 
Frankfort were pouring in. The former were nearly 
all strangers to me ; Gass, alone, Schleiermacher's 
friend, was an old acquaintance. The work which 
now stood before me was new to me. A university 
was to be got together out of the most heterogene- 
ous materials, and, although some of the arrange- 
ments had already been made, yet it seemed as if 
mine must be for some time an idle life. As I was 
to lecture on experimental physics, it may be sup- 
posed that I should find many deficiencies in my 
department, and this was really the case. Although 
the college-building occupied by the Jesuits was 
delivered over to us, yet its accommodations were 
only partially ample for our purpose. I had to con- 
tent myself for some time with an ill-arranged hall, 
and many of my colleagues did not fare better. My 
official dwelling was not yet in readiness for me, and 
I had to hire one for a year. 

At Breslau, I was able to renew my intimacy with 



PROFESSORSHIP AT liRESLAU. 205 

Carl von Raumer, whose reputation as a geologist is 
only equalled by that of his brother as a historian. 
There arose between the former and the sister of 
my wife an intimacy which culminated at length in 
their marriage. Carl von Raumer w^as remarkable 
for his serious earnestness of purpose. His mind 
was essentially introspective and religious. My first 
book, the one already mentioned as written at Frei- 
berg, had drawn him to Halle, and a friend of his 
wrote me that that book exercised a decisive influ- 
ence over his whole life. From Halle he went to 
Freiberg, and even while Werner's scholar he over- 
turned and shattered his master's whole theory, 
which regarded granite as the basis of mountain 
formations. He and I did not always agree in our 
views, yet I always respected and admired his genius 
and his character. 

The university was opened with solemn services. 
The professors were, I think, not all assembled; those 
from Frankfort were on the ground, but many of 
those called from abroad had not arrived. Link had 
been invited from Rostock as professor of chemistry 
and botany, and had been charged with the duty 
of forming a botanical garden. Heindorf had been 
called from Berlin as philological professor. Rau- 
mer, the historian, Wachler, Unterholzner, and Pas- 
sow, were expected. Thus it will be seen that the 
professorial corps was more than respectable^ and 
much was exjDected of it. The students began to 
come in, mainly of course from different parts of Si- 
lesia. There was an unwonted and shocking preva- 
lence of that boorishness and outlandishness among 



206 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

them that I had ah-eacly seen, 'though in less meas- 
ure, at Jena. Their different hurschen alliances were 
numerous, and so there were frequent outbreaks of 
student outlawry. This died away year by year; 
still, when I left Breslau, after thirty years of ser- 
vice, it had not wholly disappeared. They were 
generally a very ignorant set of young men, and 
there were plenty among them Avho had never heard 
even of the existence of Kant, Fichte, and Schel- 
ling. Some there were who had never heard of 
Lessing, Goethe, and Schiller. I labored hard to 
soften the manners, to tame the fierceness, and to 
deepen the scientific interest of the young men. 
My brother professors helped in this good work, 
and we had the happiness of seeing much accom- 
plished, only it was a slow and gradual process. 



CHAPTER IX. 

STEFFEXS'S JIILITARY CAREER. — DARK POLITICAL TKOS- 
PECTS — GENERAL GNEISENAU — PUBLIC EXCITEMENT — STIR IN 
BRESLAU — SCENE IN STEFFENS'S LECTURE-ROOM — HIS LETTER 
FROM THE KING — THE PHILOSOPHER BECOMES LIEUTENANT — 
STEIN — BLCCHER. 

Whilst the university at Breslau was being 
formed, and while I continued to try to nurture 
to tlie best of ray power those seeds of national 
independence which continued, in a cutting atmos- 
phere, gradually, though by slow degrees, to fruc- 
tify, the outward circumstances of the people grew 
darker and darker. Hard as was the outward tyr- 
anny of the invaders, their indirect influence was 
still more fearful and destructive. Nothing good 
could flourish under such a sway. In Breslau we 
heard much of the excesses during the war, and 
there were terrible recollections of outrages which 
had been committed by those troops of Southern 
Germany which had joined the French army. Thus 
had German feelings under French influence been 
turned against their own country, and the fearful 
time seemed now approaching when a Prussian 
army might combine with the French for the final 
subjugation of the land. The heaviest oppression 
which I had witnessed in Halle seemed a light mis- 
fortune when compared to this. I foresaw that if 

207 



208 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

the Prussians should learn to consider themselves as 
a part of the French army, and think it an honor to 
join them in the exultation of victory, the poison 
would be extended to the whole nation, and patriot- 
ism disappear wholly from the land. 

I became acquainted with General von Grawert, 
then at Breslau, engaged in the topographical sur- 
vey of Prussia, Avhich was an important aid to my 
means of learning the form as well as structure of 
the Silesian mountains. His Adjutant-Major von 
Hiller also became my friend. This truly patriotic- 
minded officer was painfully alive to his unhappy 
position, and his grief was extreme to find himself 
compelled to act against his country's interests. My 
.conversations with him increased my own fears. It 
was clear that Austria must arm for Napoleon, now 
that he was son-in-law to the Austrian emperor ; 
hence almost every hope of resisting the subjugation 
of the whole of Germany was extinguished. Yet 
I could not quite abandon hope ; and our news from 
Russia of the determination after a lost battle to 
retire and lay the country waste revived it in the 
shape that the insanity of boundless ambition might 
there receive a check. 

If the then state of Prussia was so overwhelm- 
ing to me in my retired existence, how must those 
have felt who to the last had cherished a belief in 
the possibility of a general resistance ! When the 
gloomy night of German despair was at the darkest, 
the secret league was still kept up, consisting of the 
noblest spirits both in Austria and Prussia, and they 
were connected by a secret confederacy with many 



DARK POLITICAL PliCSPECTS. 209 

among the GermaTi-miiKlccl English. Let tlie rulers 
■who now swny the destinies of those three countries 
ever bear tl.r.t Icnguc in mind, so jiowcrless to all 
npiK'r.rance then, and yet so mighty but a few years 
later : they will ]>erceivc in that time of cruellest 
oppression, th.at mouient of impending destruction, 
end that rapidly succeeding liberation, a prophetic 
meaning for the guidance of future centuries. 

Though occupied with the absorbing duties and 
interests of an infant institution, I continued to 
watch the })olitical state of Prussia with passionate 
devotion. As the reports strengthened that Prus- 
sia, Austria, and other German states were likely to 
combine with France in hostilities against Russia, I 
longed to know whether such men as Gneisenau, 
Chasot, Eichhorn, and Schleiermacher, had yet aban- 
doned their last hope of freedom. Those few might 
3'et withstand the withering inliuence which para- 
lyzed so many once undaunted patriots, an influence 
under which hope drooped and mutual confidence 
"was changed into mistrust. Too many of the con- 
federates, once secretly sworn to defend their coun- 
try, strove amongst themselves, and a subdued peo- 
ple were armed to fight for the tyrant who oppressed 
them. But I felt that I had yet work to do. I could 
try to inliuence the minds of men, and invigorate 
"their failing spirits ; and in the religious belief in 
a future but most certain triumph I pursued the 
struggle, though unaided by the friends of more 
];ropitious times. At hist I felt myself alone in the 
contest. I felt the pressing evils which bore down 
the boldest hearts as much as they did ; but those 

14 



210 THE STORY OF MT CAREER. 

very evils left no time for those around me to un- 
derstand and value the great principles for which I 
strove. The sun of life seemed to have set, and mid- 
night darkness threatened to overwhelm me. 

In my deepest need I was suddenly supported 
in a most unlooked-for manner. In the last days 
of 1812, Gneisenau, Chasot, Justus Griincr, Moritz 
Arndt, and afterwards Blucher, appeared in Bres- 
lau. In the agitated state of the people these ar- 
rivals occasioned great astonishment. The police 
watched their motions suspiciously, though without 
interference. I was brought into immediate con- 
nection for the first time with those men whose 
position and principles marked them as the hope of 
Germany. They passed much time in my house, 
when I took every precaution to exclude all other 
visitors. Sometimes we met at a tavern, and re- 
mained in close conference till midnight ; a small 
room behind the public saloon w^as reserved for us. 
It is easy to suppose that these arrivals in Breslau 
were the subject of intense interest, and that I ap- 
peared in a new character by my connection with 
them. The president of the police said to me once 
that he knew that I had collected a little Coblentz, 
referring to the noble refugees who had made them- 
selves extravagantly conspicuous in that place in 
the beginning of the revolution. I felt the remark 
to be a warning, but did not acknowledge the com- 
parison. 

This was my first personal acquaintance with 
Gneisenau. His features were handsome, and his 
tranquil but firm demeanor bespoke the gentleman 



GNEISENAU. 211 

and the hero ; his look was clear and open, and I 
never saw so happy a combination of self-respect 
and humility, of confidence and modesty. Like 
other distinguished German heroes, his views were 
formed more from observation than from books ; 
but his regard for literary attainments in others was 
consequently still more to be admired. He never 
appeared to greater advantage than wdien he ap- 
pealed for information on points where he was at 
fault, or frankly confessed any deficiency in knowl- 
edge. He had not the rapid apprehension, the 
sparkling wit, or the sarcastic vein which belonged 
to many commanders of the time, and which made 
them unpopular in society. 

It seemed in the Prussian army as if the boldness 
which was ranked by military men as the highest of 
virtues was equally a merit in matters of the under- 
standing, and the word of command was held as 
irresistible in controversy as at the head of a regi- 
ment. Many in maturer life had sought by force of 
natural acuteness to repair the deficiencies of early 
systematic culture. Others had attended the uni- 
versities, but had suiFered the military ardor of the 
period to break off their half-completed studies; an 
imperious tone on subjects which ought to be dis- 
cussed with inquiring reserve prevailed, especially in 
the unhappy year 1806. Those times had thrown 
back every strong mind upon its own resources. 
Never had men been called on to draw on their 
own powers to meet the exigencies of the time 
as the Prussian officers were then. Tlie effort led 



212 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

them on to victory, though it taught them overbear- 
in g: manners. 

I have liad tlie happy lot to be in the society of 
many remarkable men, but I never regretted hav- 
ing a conversation interrupted as I have done when 
"with Gneisenau. I never heard an unmeanino: word 
from his lips ; even on intellectual subjects there 
was in his modestly-ex2:)ressed opinions an irresisti- 
ble weight. Every one felt the depth of his reflect- 
ing powers, and perceived that when he spoke he 
thought more of that wherein he believed himself 
to fail than of the treasures of experience which ho 
had gathered while assisting the greatest minds of 
the age to mature sound princi])les whereby to in- 
fluence the fate of Europe. There was something 
princely in his look and mode of expression ; when 
bis manner was most humble he seemed to bow 
with conscious self-possession ; he was the most 
chivalrous, the most liberal hero, that I ever saw; 
whoever had the happy fortune to excite his in- 
terest might firmly depend on his eflTectual support 
under every circumstance. I think with gratitude 
of his benevolent goodness to me from the time 
that he first entered my dwelling; every remem- 
brance of him is most mournful, but most dear. 
He came to me a ^aw days before his sudden and 
deeply-lamented death, with the dignified, firm car- 
riage which he preserved even to old age. Never 
did the cholera seem to me such a cruel scourge as 
when it seized him for a victim. 

The powerful influence of Arndt's writings in 
Germany, in 1805 and 1806, is well known. Whilst 



PROSPECTS OF GERMANY. 213 

Other fintliors wove .Tsvcd to silence, ho alone avowed 
his i^rinciples Vvith intrepidity. His loud trumpet 
of ^x^\\ which sounded its uiii>'htv nlarni throucrh 
the ])ress, was not silenced throutih those unhnp[)y 
years of tyranny. Calling for aid, it sounded on 
when hardly one sign of hopeful effort was appa- 
rent ; he v/as destined to awake the sleepers, — to 
ai-m the nation to resistance by words of strength 
and virtue. From the time "we met he was my true 
friend. 

That the state and prospects of Germany were 
the subjects of our continual discussions, may easily 
be guessed. I then learnt that the secret league still 
existed in full force. We believed that we could 
trust England, though I must confess that neither 
the people nor their parliament seemed to afford 
that energetic sympathy with the oppressed conti- 
nental powers which their position seemed to claim. 

Austria seemed outwardly bound to France, but 
that this alliance would ultimately be more danger- 
ous to her than the most unequal warfare, was as 
clearly understood in Vienna as in Berlin. The 
true-minded but timid Austrians, who feared a total 
overthrow in a contest with France, could not con- 
ceal from themselves that the treaty wiih her was a 
voluntary surrender of their liberties, while they 
could but seek an honorable fall by their resistance. 
Who has not learned from history that nations who 
have nerved themselves to the uttermost point of 
resistance have found the germ of revived inde- 
pendence at the very time when its extinction 
seemed inevitable ? Avhilo a yielding, timid people, 



214 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

like .'I hectic patient, fancies itself most secure vvlion 
death is nearest, and, constantly dehuled, resigns the 
last sickly hope only with the dying breath. 

Everybody lived at that time in the intense ex- 
citement which prevails when a promise of being 
rescued from a wretched position has been observed, 
and the moment has not yet arrived for active ex- 
ertion. The twenty-ninth bulletin had aj^peared ; 
every artful expression in it seemed to endeavor 
vainly to conceal the news of a total defeat. The 
vision of a wonderful agitated future rose in every 
mind with all its hopes and terrors ; it was breathed 
out at first in tones scarcely audible ; even those 
w^ho had believed that unbridled ambition would 
find its check in the land which it had desolated, 
could not realize the horrible destruction of a victo- 
rious army — an army which had for fifteen years, 
with growing might, excited first the admiration, 
then the terror, and lastly the paralyzed dismay of 
all the continental nations, and which had at length 
been overtaked by a fearful judgment, more won- 
derful than its -conquests. But the strange event 
was there ; reports no longer to be doubted crowded 
in upon us ; the distant voice approached ; the por- 
tentous words sounded clearer and clearer, and at 
last the loud call to rise was shouted through the 
land. Then did the flood of feeling burst from 
hearts where it had been long pent up ; fuller and 
freer did it flow ; then the long-hidden love to 
king and country flamed brightly out, and the dull- 
est minds were animated by the wild enthusiasm. 
Every one looked for a tremendous crisis, but the 



NAPOLEON'S FLIGHT FROM RUSSIA. 215 

moment was not yet come for action, and while rest- 
ing in breathless expectation, thousands and thou- 
sands became every hour stronger still to meet it. 

It was said that Napoleon, accompanied only by 
one of his generals, had fled in a sledge through 
Silesia, travelling day and night. A postmaster had 
recoQjnized him in Hainau. In Breslau all was ex- 
citement, all household duties and affairs were for- 
gotten, everybody was collected in the streets, and 
all looked for the leader who was to order them to 
arm. 

The first thought was for the safety of the king ; 
it was feared that the remains of the French army 
might insure their safe retreat from Berlin by seiz- 
ing his sacred person. Herr B. von L , urged 

by this apprehension, addressed himself immediately 
to the king, and entreated him to leave Berlin and 
repair to Breslau, where, on ground not invested by 
the enemy, surrounded by faithful subjects, he might 
be safer than in a city actually in possession of the 
French. Those who surrounded the king, however, 
feared his taking so dangerous a step. A few days 

after this Herr von L was seized in the night 

by gendarmes, carried off to Berlin, and there im- 
prisoned, though he was shortly afterwards liberated. 

Though now at the very dawn of the long hoped- 
for day, I felt myself strangely depressed. Six years, 
I said to myself, have I been looking for this mo- 
ment as the most blessed of my life, and here am I, 
in a city remote from the scene of activity; further 
south and west the liberators of Germany will as- 
semble, and I must listen here inactively to accounts 



216 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

of stirring events ns to so ranny tales. I was in this 
(liscoiUented st.'ite of mind wlicn tlie report gained 

ground tlmt B. von L 's ])roj)osal was to bo 

granted ; it was followed by orders to prepare ac- 
commodation for the king and his snite. And he 
arrived shortly after witli his children. Ilardcn- 
berg was with him, and a crowd of officers and 
generals followed. General v. York's intrejud ac- 
tion was soon reported, and the war was considered 
to have commenced, tliough no declaration liad yet 
been issned. Tlie influx of men, especially young 
ones, was enormous ; every house was crammed, 
and the streets were all bustle. Scharnhorst liad 
come. Gneisenau was expected. One feeling ani- 
mated all. Business, circumstances, connections, 
friendship, were thouglit of only to devote them 
all to the one great object, but that object had still 
to be viewed only through a mist of ])ainful doubt. 
The king had not approved of General v. York's 
open and brilliant demonstration ; it was not im- 
possible that he might be disgraced for it. The 
much-respected French ambassador, St. Marsan, ac- 
companied the king to Breslau. The balance yet 
hung doubtfully, whether, notwithstanding the ar- 
dent longings of the whole nation. General v. York 
jniglit be sacritieed, and common cause made with 
Napoleon to attack Russia, or whether, allied with 
Russia, war should be declared against Napoleon. 

Among those assembled in Breslau was Bolken- 
Btern, who had been sent by Gneisenau to Halle to 
keep up the interest of our secret correspondence ; 
ho belonged to Scharnhorst's school, that is, to the 



POliLIC EXCITEMENT. 217 

young officers from whom Gneisonau cxpcctccl most 
in tiiG approMcliiiiu; v/ar. I joined a large group of 
olliccrs at his lodgings, and learned that the Gazette 
of the same day would contain the king's nppeal 
for a voluntary arming. All the youth of Prussia 
were expecting it, but on looking over a copy we 
saw there was no allusion to the subject, and this 
paralyzing silence as to the enemy was discussed 
with great disapprobation and alarm. In an excite- 
ment of mixed joy and apprehension I left the 
meeting. I passed a disturbed, dreamy night, and 
awoke early to prepare for a lecture on natural phi- 
losophy, which was to be given at eight. I had, as 
usual, not communicated to my family what had 
passed at Bolkenstern's, but an idea j^eized me : 
" It is for you," I said to myself, " to proclaim the 
war ; your position permits it, and what the court 
may afterwards determine will be indifferent to 
you." I never doubted of the king's determination 
to join with Russia. That it was utterly impossible 
to appeal to the youth of Prussia to light for France 
was perfectly clear, but there might be reasons for 
keeping the enemy in suspense, though after the 
king's appeal they were incomprehensible to me. 
It is possible, I argued, that to preserve this decep- 
tion my open act may be disapproved or even pun- 
ished. I might be imprisoned — ruined. All tliis 
"was unworthy of consideration at a moment of such 
urgency. 

My class was not large, there was little interest in 
the university for philosophy, and the agitation of 
the time had thinned all the lecture-rooms. I was 



218 THE STORY OF MY (JAIIEER. 

just established in my new residence, of which the 
lecture-room nnd my study formed fi wing. I was 
to give another lecture from eleven till twelve. The 
first was concluded, and no one had guessed what 
had occupied my whole mind throughout ; it was 
that which I had for years striven for and longed 
for. I turned to my hearers and said, — 

"Gentlemen, I shall give another lecture at eleven 
o'clock, but I shall choose a theme of all-absorbing 
importance. The king's command for a general 
arming has appeared, or will do so to-day ; I shall 
lecture upon that. Let my intention be generally 
known. If the other lecture-rooms are deserted, it 
matters not ; I expect as mnny as this room will 
hold." 

The excitement in the town was unbounded, and 
the eagerness' excessive to know in what direction 
the suddenly called out force was to be used. Thou- 
sands pouring into the town mixed with the inhab- 
itants in the crowded streets, amidst troops, ammu- 
nition wagons, cannon, and loads of arms of every 
description. The slightest word calculated to throw 
any light on the state of things was caught up and 
repeated in every direction. Scarcely had the half 
of my two hours' interval elapsed before a dense 
crowd streamed towards my house, and the lecture- 
room was full to suffocation ; many stood at the 
windows, in the corridor, and the crowd of those 
who could not gain admittance extended even far 
into the street. It was long before I could make my 
way to my place. I had not yet seen my wife that 
day ; my father-in-law and his daughter lived a story 



PUBLIC EXCITKMEST. 219 

above us, with Yon Raiimer ; my mother-iu-law was 
with us. The crowd which streamed towards our 
house amazed them, but I think they must have 
guessed at my intentions. My wife did not dare to 
venture forth, but I sent her a tranquilUzing message 
by a servant, with a promise to explain all to her by 
and by. I had passed the two hours in great agita- 
tion : what I had to say — the burden which I had 
groaned under for five years — shook my whole 
soul ; I was to be the first who was to cry aloud that 
the liberation of Germany, yes, of all Europe, was 
at hand. I sought in vain to arrange my feelings 
into words, but I fancied that good spirits were 
whispering help to me, and I longed for the time of 
lonely suspense to be over. One thought came 
clearly to my mind — I reproached myself that I 
had murmured at being banished to a remote prov- 
ince, and now that very corner had become the 
splendid centre whence a new era was to emanate, 
and my voice was to set the elements in motion. 
Tears guslied into my eyes. A short prayer tran- 
quillized me, and I stood before the assembly. I 
know not what I said ; had I been asked at the mo- 
ment that I ended, I could not have told a word. I 
had no new cause to proclaim — what I said was 
but the echo of the thoughts and feelings of every 
hearer. That after calUng on the youth to rise, I 
added my determination to take my part and join 
the ranks, may well be guessed without my telling it. 
At the close of my speech 1 hastened to tranquil- 
lize my family ; a few minutes after I was once more 
alone in my study. It is done at last, I thought, 



220 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

and a load was taken from my heart. But new cares 
now claimed my t]] oughts ; from that liour my 
wliole ])08ition in life was altered ; arms v/ere now 
my profession, and how was I to follow it? 1 had 
taken counsel with nobody, and I felt wholly at a 
loss. Suddenly a thought struck me : I would go to 
Scharnhorst — he would guide and help me best. I 
liad taken my hat, when a deputation from the stu- 
dents appeared : they begged me to continue my 
address in a larger hall, and named one which would 
contain five or six hundred hearers, and I was 
obliged to assent. I longed to go, but could not 
get away, the students thronged in so continually. 
A precious hour had thus elapsed, when Professor 
Augnsti, then rector of the university, appeared ; he 
had some important -communication to make to mo 
in private, and, uneasy as I felt at the request, I was 
very glad of the excuse to clear my room of stu- 
dents. I was on the best of terms with Augusti. 
He said in a solemn way that he came from the 
chancellor of state ; that St. Marsan, the French 
ambassador, had hastened to the chancellor directly 
on hearing of my address. He had inquired what 
it meant. "We are," said he, "at peace with you, 
and look upon you as our allies, and now a teacher 
in the university dares to declare war against us, as 
if under the sanction of the king." Hardenberg 
had ansv*'ered, "The feelings of the people, especial- 
ly ihe youth of Prussia, can be no secret to you ; 
we could not restrain the meetinG^ — it was over be- 
fore news of the intention reached us ; the king dis- 
countenances it. Ask for an ajDology and it shall be 



SCHARNHOJIST. 221 

given ; but I cannot conceal that any step taken 
against the speaker would make him a martyr, and 
such excitement would follow as would make our 
j)osition most difficult." 

The chancellor communicated to me through the 
rector that he had heard of my intention of resum- 
ing my address on the morrow. He did not desire 
me to refrain from expressing any of my own opin- 
ions, but entreated me not to mention Napoleon's 
name. By a sort of instinct I had avoided doing so 
in my lirst speech ; I had feared that tiie name 
might give an air of personal hatred to ray appeal, 
and rob it of tlie elevated tone of genuine patriot- 
ism. My friend left mo, and I hastened to Scharn- 
horst. Colonel von Bayen, now minister of war, 
one of the most active and intelligent of our confed- 
eration, was already there. Scharnhorst embraced 
me, saying with joyful emotion, " StefFens, you do 
not know what you have done." I desired no 
greater praise ; I foresaw that I, a quiet, retired man 
of letters, in the middle age of life, would make but 
a sorry soldier, but that to the war I must proceed. 

I had only lately become acquainted vv'ith Scharn- 
liorst ; he was not an officer of the Prussian parade 
style, but seemed more like a philosopher in uni- 
form. He spoke like a man of deep thought, fully 
imbued with his subject, which was always one of 
real importance, and on which his deliberately ex- 
pressed sentiments carried an irresistible conviction ; 
both in argument and action he persevered in his 
point dispassionately, but with determination. 

It is told of a legate who was sent to Paris by 



222 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

the Pope to transact business with Napoleon, that 
on one occasion he resisted the demands so obsti- 
nately as to make the Emperor almost despair of 
carrying his point. Napoleon at last left the room 
in high displeasure, and having ordered the legate 
to remain there till his return, shut him in, and did 
not reappear till evening, by which time he hoped 
that weariness and hunger would have induced sub- 
mission. After a slight excuse from the Emperor, 
and a desire to resume the conference, the priest, 
without a syllable of apology, went straight forward 
with his business at the exact point at which it had 
been suspended. That was exactly the mode in 
which Scharnhorst always proceeded ; he never 
flinched in anything he ever undertook against Napo- 
leon, not even when success seemed almost hopeless. 
Few were acquainted with the extent of Scharn- 
horst's powers. Invincible in purpose, untiring in 
action, all the wisest of our military leaders looked 
to him as the centre of their movements. To this 
great man I turned in the most exciting instant of 
my life for guidance. I told him that I wished to 
join one of the detachments of the regular army, 
and I rejoiced to find that he approved. " We can," 
he said, " place you at once at head-quarters, where 
you may find work in which your former profession 
will be useful." He advised me to learn the duties 
of the service, as, at least in the beginning of the 
war, it was desirable that I should be much among 
the young volunteers whose minds I had excited. 
He also advised me to present a petition to the 
king, praying to be allowed to join the service in 



THE KINO'S ANSWER. 223 

whatever capacity his Majesty might please to ap- 
point. 

I was now perfectly at ease ; ray sudden impulse 
had become a well-considered line of conduct. I 
forwarded my petition, and in a few days received 
the following gracious answer : — 

"I afford you my entire approbation that you 
have not only excited the attendants on your lec- 
tures in the university to rise in their country's de- 
fence in the present imminent danger, but have also 
devoted yourself to the same praiseworthy service. 
To which laudable end I grant you leave of absence 
from your present duties until circumstances may 
permit you to return to them ; and I heartily wish 
that the example which you have set to younger 
men, of devotion to their country's cause, may be 
followed to the happy furtherance of the same. 

"Frederick Wilhelm. 

"Breslau, February 16, 1813." 

I passed the days which intervened before I re- 
ceived the royal answer in most anxious suspense. 
The lectures were discontinued, and I gave myself 
up to wild conjectures as to my future destination. 
I had not confided to my wife the important step 
which I had taken, and I had told no one but my 
father-in-law, who fully approved of all that I had 
done. I was beset with students in great numbers, 
not only of Breslau, but from Berlin, and in my 
state of uncertainty their eagerness increased my 
perplexity. 



224 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

On the 20th of February I received his Majesty's 
letter permitting me to wear officer's imiform and 
act as an officer, until he should see fit to promote 
me to the rank of one. 

I had now a distinct occupation. Captain von 
Bolkenstern, my sincere friend, commanded my 
company, and as a preliminary I paid a sergeant of 
the company to teach me my exercise. A rather 
laughable incident occurred in reference to my dril- 
ling. As every vacant space was required to exer- 
cise the volunteers as well as the regular recruits,' 
the court of my house was sometimes used for the 
purpose. An old woman who worked occasionally 
in the family happened to see how the drilling offi- 
cer sometimes lost his patience with awkward 
youths, — how he seized the shoulders, pressed in 
the backs to expand the chest, poked the stomachs, 
and stuck a doubled fist under the chin to throw 
the head up. She had heard that I too was learn- 
ing the exercise, and burst with loud wailings into 
my wife's presence, lamenting that I should have to 
undergo such treatment. My lot, however, was by 
no means so bad ; my sergeant was very polite, 
though I cannot boast of being a handy recruit. 

I could not, however, devote much time to these 
useful elements of my military education. I found 
endless and perplexing business in my office. A 
register had to be kept of every volunteer, specify- 
ing every personal particular. Many thousand vol- 
unteers came to me, and some generals who wanted 
volunteers to fill their detachments honored mo 
with visits. I had besides no little trouble with the 



VOLUNTEERS AND GOLD LACE. 225 

young men, who all desired to join the guards, and 
who would with great difficulty*be persuaded to be- 
long to other corps. 

A subject of dispute arose among those who had 
attached themselves to me. The young volunteers 
in other guard battalions had obtained permission to 
wear silver lace on the collar in the place of the 
white woollen which was worn by the regular men. 
The guard-chasseur company wore yellow lace, and 
the volunteers wished to be allowed to have it in 
gold. I must confess it was inconceivable to me 
how in such a moment of national enthusiasm the 
very weakest amongst the young men could think 
of such trifles ; but Bolkenstern agreed with me in 
the propriety of decidely refusing the pretension. I 
looked upon it as one of the most useful circumstan- 
ces of the times, that the more educated classes 
should mix w*ith those beneath them in rank and 
cultivation. I hoped that the higher influence 
would gradually improve the whole army, and we 
determined that the volunteers of the guard-chas- 
seurs should wear the woollen lace, and in all re- 
spects throughout the war be on an equality with 
the common soldier. The press for admission was 
so great that we did not fear to have our ranks un- 
filled ; some of the most high-born among the 
youths supported our views, and many who have 
since filled exalted stations will remember the dis- 
pute, and how warmly they declared in favor of our 
determination. 

The Lutzow coi'ps was being formed at the same 
time in Breslau, and I was excited to friendly erau- 

15 



226 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. '. 

lation with Jahn, who was organizing his body of 
vohintcers:. His corps was most attractive to tlic 
youths of ardent disposition ; the very spirit of chiv- 
ahy seemed to expand amongst them ; they were 
the poetry of the war, and their voice found noble 
utterance in Korner's lyre. 

I liad to manage for the clothing of the volun- 
teers ; the funds for the purpose were supplied by 
the voluntary subscriptions which poured in from 
all parts of Prussia. It is well known how bound- 
less was the emulation to outvie each other in splen- 
did contributions. The miser offered up his wor- 
shipped hoard ; those who had not money sold their 
plate and jewels ; and many an anxious mother was 
seen to fit out and send to the war the son whom 
she had scarcely trusted from her sight. Common 
and pitiful feelings, such as will peep out to disfig- 
ure society in ordinary times, then scarcely dared 
to show themselves ; men high in station took their 
place beside the lowest ; superiors seemed willing to 
receive commands from those below them, when 
they, by longer service, were thought more capable ; 
the difference between giver and receiver seemed to 
have lost its former meaning ; and truly those who 
witnessed such displays of national virtue after a 
whole century of peace-engendered imperious bully- 
inof, must have seen that which seemed either a mir- 
acle or a fairy tale. To some of the poorer volun- 
teers money had been given to provide their own 
outfits, and it happened sometimes that the small 
amount had been spent in drinking success to tho 
common cause. I therefore determined henceforth 



VOLUNTEERS PRESENTED TO THE KING. 227 

to give nothing but nniforms and military accoutre- 
ments. Workmen were employed night and day, 
and the commander of our battalion, Gen. von Ja- 
gow, ])roposed to me to equip with utmost speed lii- 
ty of the finest young men and present them to the 
king. The suggestion was complied with, though I 
would rather have avoided the display, in a wonder- 
fully short time, and we received the royal permis- 
sion to attend. The king received us in his palace. 
Amongst the volunteers were the poet Biirde and 
his three sons, all fine, tall men, who stood far above 
all the rest. Biirde had been secretary to Count 
von Haugwitz, and was not unknown to the king. 
The chief of the battalion alone was present ; I was 
in civil costume, my uniform not being completed. 
The king received this first presentation of Prussian 
volunteers very graciously, and expressed himself to 
me in terms which I shall never forget. The audi- 
ence was soon talked of, and as I did not return to 
my own house immediately, I found my door on my 
arrival there beset with carriages — it was men of 
consequence and generals, who came to congratu- 
late me. 

At length my transformation was to take place, 
and the process was by no means a pleasant one, 
bordering on the comic. The grave philosopher 
was to be chanored into the raw second lieutenant. 
The little accomplishments which in youth are at- 
tained almost imperceptibly and are practised with 
ease were hard of attainment at my more advanced 
period of life ; even the difference between my right 
hand and my left required reflection to remember,. 



228 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

nnd the perception amvecl always too late. I hoped 
that time and practice mii^ht remedy this deficiency, 
but it clunGf to me to tlie last. I bej^an and ended 
the clumsiest second lieutenant in the whole Prus- 
sian army. 

Throu,Gjhout all this preparation the alliance with 
Russia and the war with Napoleon were still unde- 
clared. At length Baron von Stein arrived in Bres- 
lau with the news that Scharnhorst had met the 
Emperor Alexander at Kalish, and had there, on 
the twenty-seventh of February, concluded a treaty 
with Russia ; but it was not until the sixteenth of 
March, almost six weeks after the royal command 
to take arms, that this treaty was communicated by 
Hardenberg to St. Marsan. 

The Emperor Alexander's approaching arrival was 
announced, and the troops were ordered to line the 
streets for his reception. On this occasion I was on 
duty for the first time in my country's service. At 
four in the morning the detachment was paraded 
and marched to the suburb through which the Em- 
peror was to enter. He was expected early in the 
morning ; we waited in vain ; the forenoon passed ; 
we were all tired and hungry. Couriers brought 
news at last that the Emperor was still so distant 
tliat we might leave guard for half an hour. It was 
almost dark before he arrived. lie was received 
witii acclamations by the inhabitants; but the en- 
thusiasm would have been livelier had not every- 
body been worn out by hunger and impatient wait- 
inq:. Thus was I introduced to those minor duties 



COMMENCEMENT OF ACTIVE SERVICE. 229" 

of the service which are little calculated to excite or 
support the spirits. 

War was declared in Paris through the ambassa- 
dor. General von York's demonstration was praised 
by the king, and became the universal theme of ad- 
miration. All the youth of Prussia were emulated 
by his example, when a most discouraging report 
arose. It was said that the enthusiastic love of lib- 
erty among the volunteer corps was disapproved in 
high quarters ; it was considered extremely danger- 
ous, and was to be restrained. They were not to 
act against Xapoleon, but to be sent to Poland, 
where disturbances were expected, to protect the 
rear of the army. The exasperation may be con- 
ceived of young minds panting to be led against a 
hated foe, threatened, instead, to be used as a police 
force to coerce a people in whose cause they sym- 
pathized. Such intentions, however, if really formed, 
were not acted upon. 

Our detachment was sent forward to Lissa. Bolk- 
enstern and I were quartered in the fort, and my mil- 
itary life commenced. A grand review took place of 
the united corps of Bliicher and Wittgenstein ; it 
was my second public appearance as a Prussian offi- 
cer. Bolkenstern worked very hard at teaching me 
to perform a salute. "When you are opposite the 
king," he said, "you must step forward with the — 
(I never can remember whether it was the right or 
the left) — foot and lower your sabre," and many 
more minute directions which I have forgotten. 
They were my undoing ; for when the moment 
came I was absorbed in thinking over my lesson, 



.230 THE STORY OF MY CAIiEEIt. 

• 

and my salute was so sad a bungle that Bolken- 
stern overwhelmed me with reproaches. Happily I 
had no more .such ceremonies to perform, for, be- 
sides my inexpertness, my whole equipment was far 
from being a model of military perfection. The 
guard-chasseur uniform was very expensive, and 
consequently the gold epaulette did not grace my 
shoulder, nor was the schako, adorned with the 
black eagle, and the rich scarf, ever added. 

The painful parting with my family had jjassed, 
and we moved on towards the enemy, who came to 
meet us with a rapidity which, after so disastrous a 
defeat, was truly admirable. 

Dui-ing our tedious delay in Lissa, and our march 
through Silesia and the Lausitz towards Dresden, 
we were enlivened by meeting Tettenborn's divis- 
ion, advancing towards Hamburg, and Dornberg's 
towards Liineburg. I found Stein and Moritz Arndt 
in Dresden, where I remained a few days, relieved 
from the annoyances of military duty. It was my 
first personal introduction to the great German. I 
broke a lance with him, and my weapon was one 
which I knew better liow to use than those which I 
had so lately assumed — it was a friendly strife, but 
an earnest one. 

Stein was a man of deeds, not words, straightfor- 
ward in action. He grasped and mastered every 
difficulty at the moment it arose, and he hated or 
pretended to hate speculation, and attacked me as a 
theorist. I was dining with him one day when only 
Moritz Arndt was present. "Your propositions," 
said he, " are mere subtleties — bare dogmas, calcu- 



STEIN. 231 

latcd only to cripple every enterprising deed." "If," 
said I, "ray speculations bad not taken a practical 
turn, I should not have the honor to appear bet'orc 
you equipped as I now aui ; but the desire to realize 
all tiiat is felt within, or npprehcuded by the senses, 
not according to outward semblance, but to the true 
spiritual import, is not the arbitrary whini of this 
person or of that, it is the moving-spring of the mind 
of Germany, and through this it is that my friend 
Schelling has so influenced the national character." 
"Yes," answered Stein, "I know well that the Ger- 
man youth are intoxicated with these vain theories; 
Germans have an unfortunate love for subtle reason- 
ing, hence they neglect tangible good, and are the 
prey of every cunning enemy." " Your excellency," 
I said, " the German youth has risen in vast masses, 
yet many still hold back, and among those who do 
60, I will venture to assert, not one of the intoxi- 
cated theorists is to be found. Who has more 
effectually incited the people to rouse and arm 
than our two great masters of speculative philoso- 
phy, Fichte and Schleiermacher ? Your excellency's 
time is too precious to be spent on subtleties which 
seem unpractical, but to .me nothing seems more 
unpractical than to overlook a principle which you 
confess has become an element of the national 
mind."- 

I was almost frightened at my boldness. Stein 
grumbled rather angrily at first, but said smilingly 
afterwards, " Well, I am only an unpractical theori- 
zer myself, wasting time in useless speculations on 
the views of others." 



232 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

Mutual jealousies arose between the regular troops 
and the volunteers, whose unbridled ardor gave 
great offence. Many of those brought up in strict 
military discipline feared that the volunteer spirit 
would be a self-destructive clement in the army, and 
held it their duty to keep it in continual check. 
Major von Z., who after Jagow's departure became 
chief of our battalion, had been General von York's 
adjutant during the Russian campaign, and was 
highly esteemed by him. He was notwithstanding 
one of those who thousrht the volunteers ouG^ht to 
be kept under, and he expressed liis conviction not 
only when I had the honor of being his guest, but 
openly before the whole detachment. My unfortu- 
nate awkwardness, which was incomprehensible to 
him, called forth endless reflections upon useless, 
clumsy philosophers. On such occasions my posi- 
tion was not very flattering in the presence of my 
former disciples, among whom I was now the most 
stupid of the scholars ; they supported me, howev- 
er, on every occasion, and never failed to let me feel 
that they still remembered our former very different 
relation to each other. 

Once in a village, the name of which has escaped 
my memory, a general advance was ordered. I 
was among the flrst who, after a hasty equipment, 
joined the major at the rendezvous, and was ordered 
to march with a small party in a certain direction 
before the village, in order to act as promptly as 
might be required on tlie approach of the enemy. 
I received no more particular orders. I ventured to 
inquire in which direction the enemy's approach 



STEFFEyS'S RECONNOITEEINO EXPEDITION. 233; 

might be expected. "That you must find out," said 
the major, and I undertook the duty with much anxie- 
ty. I was utterly deficient in military experience, and 
was, as my friend Schall once called me in a poem, 
only a natural born soldier. I went with my small 
party in the appointed direction, judged as well as I 
could from very uncertain reports of the probable 
direction of the enemy, and posted two men on an 
eminence to reconnoitre, and behind them an ad- 
vanced post, — whether they were too fiir off or too 
near I was wholly ignorant. The major came to 
review my position, and a storm then fell upon my 
unhappy head, which convinced me that I should 
not be able to continue that line of service. I was 
treated as the most incomparably stupid of human 
beings, the reproaches being varied by lively sallies 
on the uselessness of bookworms ; in the course of 
these I was made answerable for all the trashy pam- 
phlets of miserable authors which had been pub- 
lished since the subjugation of Prussia. "Where 
did you look for the enemy?" "There," I said, 
"answering to the reports." "You should have ex- 
pected them on the other side, — you ought to have 
known better." A large portion of the detachment 
were witness of this scene, including a number of 
my Breslau students. I had, as my rank required, 
received it all in silence, but later on the same day 
I waited on the major ; he was more civil than be- 
fore, and I sought neither to excuse myself nor 
complain of him, but represented that my posi- 
tion in regard to many in the detachment made it 
desirable for me to be appointed elsewhere, and 



234 THE STORY OF MT CAREER. 

that, as General Scharnhorst had only intended mo 
to be in it for a time, my removal would save tlio 
mnjor the unpleasant duty of correcting me in the 
presence of my own ])upils. 

It was then late in April, and we w^erc approach- 
in<-»- Altenburir, where General Blucher had his head- 
quarters. With Bolkenstern's consent I joined 
them. Scharnhorst presented me to Blucher, who 
wished me to remain unattached, and all was ar- 
ranged, even to my being provided with a horse, 
w-hich Scharnhorst kindly undertook for me. 

I found Gneisenau as commandant of head-quar- 
ters, and Colonel von Muffling. The little town of 
Altenburg was in great excitement. The refugee 
king of Sweden, under the name of Colonel Gus- 
tavson, had lately arrived, and occasioned no small 
perplexity to the Prussian generals. It was very 
desirable to win over the then crown prince, Berna- 
dotte, to join us, and it was plain that the exiled 
king hoped in secret to strengthen his own cause by 
the aid of Bliicher and his generals, while he natu- 
rally expected that they would entertain no great 
partiality for the former French commander. 

In the present important conjuncture, however, 
his absence was greatly to be desired, and that opin- 
ion was hardly concealed from him. I saw the thin, 
slender-looking king, one day, with his long, fair 
face, and the peculiar features of the ancient royal 
family strongly marked, standing at the door of a 
post-house. He wished to depart, and asked for 
horses ; all were under requisition. It was perhaps 
right to refuse them without orders, but a stable-boy 



DLUCBER. 235 

did so in the most offensive manner, and I had the 
distress of seeing an anointed king, the descend- 
ant of Gustavns Vasa and of that Gustavns Adol- 
phus Avhose memory should be sacred in Germany, 
ill-lreated by a menial. The king — for he had nev- 
er ceased to be one in my eyes — made no reply ; 
he turned away ; and though his history inspired 
me with more pity than respect, I thought there 
was something truly royal in his demeanor. I was 
with Colonel von Gerlach ; we both saluted him as 
he passed, and he received the compliment as a mat- 
ter of course, and answered it with most kingly dig- 
nity. 

Bliicher was quartered at the Hotel Stadt Gotha. 
When I first joined the table there he was absent, 
with many of his officers. The Freemasons held a 
great meeting at Altenl>urg, and Bliicher was the 
grand-master. His love for speech-making made 
the society attractive to him, and it is said that ho 
obtained his remarkable facility in speaking at the 
Freemasons' lodge. He came to the hotel before 
the dinner ended, and the conversation seemed to 
indicate that the war was about to begin in earnest, 
and that an engagement was expected. News was 
repeated that the enemy were advancing from vari- 
ous quarters. Councils of war were held, and I en- 
joyed the excitement of feeling myself in the very 
centre of important operations ; my only perplexity 
■was to wonder what sort of active service I could 
possibly perform. 

One thing seemed certain, — thafel was to remain 
for the vrhole of the war at Bliicher's head-quarters. 



236 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

It is most difficult to give a true description of that 
"wonderful man, whose memory will live as long as 
tlie records of tlie war itself; he lias been so often 
sketched that it is hard for many to divest the per- 
sonal idea of him of many trifles unw^orthy of his 
greatness. His life, written by our great biogra- 
pher, Varnhagen von Ense, is universally read, and 
deserves to be so. 

Bllicher might be called a phenomenon (Incor- 
recte Erscheinung) ; there was a want of keeping in 
the parts of his character; yet this very eccentricity 
produced his greatness. In him all that was strange 
and incompatible in that wonderful war was repre- 
sented ; therefore it was as easy for his admirers to 
throw all other heroes in comparison with him into 
the shade, as for his dispraisers to describe him as a 
mere phantom. The severe moralist will find much 
in him to censure, yet he was the very centre of the 
moral impulse of the war. Compared with Napo- 
leon, who invented a new system of military tactics, 
he cannot be called a great commander, yet in that 
character he won immortal fame. His speech was 
bold, like a rough, uncultivated soldier, yet some- 
times it rose to such a pitch of eloquence as had 
been heard from no miUtary hero of modern times ; 
he obeyed the impulse of the moment, but the im- 
pulse was deep as it was quick ; his perception was 
so vivid that he would see every difficulty in an in- 
stant and be dashed into despair; a few more in- 
stants and he would grasp the means of action, and 
fasten on his object with redoubled energy. That 
object was Napoleon's downfall. His hatred to the 



GERMAN ACTION. 237 

tyrant mingled with tlie conviction tliat he was 
born to work his ruin, and ho pursued his purpose 
as if led by an unerring instinct. lie was a striking 
contrast to Napoleon. Napoleon studied all the 
phases of the revolution, and worked them out to 
the uses of his ambition, and he knew how to influ- 
ence every ripple of the mighty stream which was 
to wash away the last traces of nationality. Blii- 
cher stood forth, a mighty nature, bearing the fire of 
youth in an aged but iron frame, destined to de- 
nounce the nothin2i;ness of the deepest schemini? 
w^hich was ever known in history. 

The broken divisions of the beaten French army 
had to pass through a land inflamed with detesta- 
tion, in order to join their reinforcements in their 
own territory. We must not deny the enemy full 
praise for the admirable tact and determination 
which they displayed under a calamity great enough 
to have overpowered an army of heroes. On their 
retreat a sort of preliminary war took place, which, 
compared with the great struggle in which all Eu- 
rope was engaged, might be called an afl[;iir of out- 
posts. The German legions, combined wdth the 
Russians, took advantage of the unfortunate position 
of the French retiring foi'ces, and won successes 
which, at the time, were important. Dornberg's 
bold seizure of Liineburg, and Tettenborn's occupa- 
tion of the French city of Hamburg, were inspirit- 
ing incidents, raising the hopes of Germany, as did 
the first great overt act of General von York at 
Konigsberg. These triumphs had their value, but it 
was easy to perceive that the advantages could not 



238 THE STORY OF MY CAREEIl. 

be snpportecl, and it is too well known how dearly 
thoy were pnid for in both cities, especially in Ham- 
burg. In the mean time the masses were collect- 
ing which were to decide tlie tremendous contest. 
Fiance lelt that she had to fight for her existence, 
and the magical word, " the glory of the Great Na- 
tion," was as yet an unbroken spell. Napoleon was 
still to the French people their great leader, the 
conqueror of Europe, and the arming nations were 
rebels to his sway. Nature had for once joined to 
withstand him, and had triumphed for a moment ; 
deprived of her aid, the resisting armies were again 
but the assemblage of so many easily to be re-con- 
quered provinces. Holland, Belgium, Italy and the 
south of Germany still obeyed Napoleon, and trem- 
bled at the power of his name ; Westphalia was yet 
nominally Frencli, though she was united in heart 
to us ; while Austria, though wavering, was still in 
alliance with France. Many discouraging circum- 
stances hung over the united enterprise of Russia 
and Prussia. A mighty impulse, it is true, had 
called up a Prussian army with a truly wonderful 
celerity, but the organization Avas by no means com- 
plete, and time must elapse before any great force 
could be expected from Russia, distant as that coun- 
try was, and exhausted by her late resistance. 

This, then, was the state of Europe at the time 
when the nevv^ French army, issuing fi'om their fron- 
tier, met the weakened forces returning from their 
Russian campaign ; wHen a large division under 
General Wittgenstein, in conjunction with Blucher, 
prepared to meet the concentrated force of France. 



STEFFENS A STAFF OFFICER. 239 

In regard to ray personal position I can only 
lament that I was as little qualified to. be one of 
Bluchcr''s staff as I had been for a second lieutenant. 
I was devoid of teclinical knowledge, and though 
all were kind to me, each had too many duties of 
his own to find time to enlighten my unhappy state 
of ignorance. My records of the campaign will 
therefore be wholly deficient in military detail, and 
the reader will be less disappointed if he will per- 
mit me to call them, not a history of the war, but 
sketches of my adventures on the road to Paris dur- 
ing the campaigns of 1813 and 1814. 



CHAPTER X. 

BTEFFENS'S MILITAUY CAREER. — MY FIRST SIGHT OF 
WAR — "MY KIXGDOM FOR A HORSE " — GXEISEXAU'S COURAGE 
AT GROSS-GoKSCIIEN — SCIIARXIIORST MORTALLY ^VOU^'DED — 
BATTLi: OF LEIPZIG — STEFFENS'S RESIGNATION AND RETURN 
TO BRESLAU. 

Blucher had quitted Altenbiirg/and we all ex- 
pected a general engagement. Late in the evening 
of the first of May, I sat in lonely expectation in a 
small cottage. Though mucli excited by the pros- 
pect of a battle, my spirits were anything but elated, 
and I must confess that some personal considerations 
helped to keep them down. I had, it is true, been 
removed from a painful position, yet my present 
was unpleasantly dubious. Scharnhorst had not 
found time to give me any orders, and for the first 
time in my life I was without the power of inde- 
pendent action, and yet found myself in a moment 
of general preparation not only without any ap- 
])ointed duty to ]ierform, but doubtful, were I to 
be employed, whether I should aid or impede the 
cause. There was something cruelly humiliating 
in my situation, and the more enthusiastically I 
had anticipated the approaching contest, which had 
been the longing desire of so many years, the more 
wretched did I feel. I was pacing my little room 
with restless steps, when the sound of a galloping 

240 



"MT KINGDOM FOR A HORSE." 241 

horse's feet stopped suddenly at my door. The 
rider threw himself off, and gave me a letter from 
Scharnhorst. " Here at last are my orders ; now 
have I a place and part in the important day." I 
tore it open, and read as follows : — 

"Dear Steffens: — I am sorry to be obliged to hQ^ 
you to send me back the horse which I lent you. I 
lament that you will thus be prevented from appear- 
ing on the field of battle. It is the animal which I 
always ride on great occasions; and I fear that you 
will be obliged to remain in the rear to await, as I 
trust, the victorious issue of the day." 

I gave up the horse, and now I was in despair. 
If I were absent fi'om the field I felt that I should 
be disgraced, and incapable of service for the rest 
of the campaign. I had heard the name of the vil- 
lage where the garde-chasseur battalion was posted. 
I set off, and by walking a mile joined it at last, 
though, having had some difficulty in finding a 
guide, it was nearly morning before I reached it. 
I called up the chief of the battalion, and begged 
liim to put me in the way of obtaining a horse. I 
was conducted to a countryman, wiio at first stoutly 
resisted my demand, but at length produced one. It 
was a yellow chestnut, old, half-starved cart-horse ; 
his ribs might be counted, and his hips stood up like 
the sharp sides of a rock. I climbed up to the mis- 
erable saddle, evidently the peasant's own manufac- 
tiu'c, and after much effort the poor animal got its 
limbs set in motion. It was obstinate, and its mouth 
16 



242 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

was as hard as iron. No Prussian horseman ever 
cut so strange a figure. The knapsack which the 
guide had carried was fastened behind, and it was 
long before I got the chimsy beast into a trot. 
Which way to look for the field of battle I knew 
not ; but as the day began to dawn I thought I per- 
ceived troops in the distance, though I Avas quite 
ignorant whether they were friend or foe. I rode 
forward, however, till I reached a large, open, grad- 
ually sloping field. Here I found a large body of 
Prussian infantry formed into line. How it took 
place I cannot tell, but suddenly I found my horse 
and myself in the very front, hindering the advance. 
An officer of rank, who must have been greatly as- 
tonished at the singular apparition, came up with 

angry looks, exclaiming, " What the d are you 

doing here ? " General von York had been pointed 
out to me in Altenburg. I recognized him Avith 
dismay, while I made a desperate but for some time 
unavailing eSbrt to induce my charger to retire from 
his position. I have but a confused impression of 
how I got out of the scrape. I only remember the 
sound of the general's scornful reproof. When I 
subsequently became well acquainted with him, and 
related the history of the disaster, he was highly 
entertained. After many inquiries and much riding 
backwards and forwards, I found Scharnhorst. He 
told me to remain near him, and ordered one of his 
adjutants to mount me on a baggage-horse. It was 
nearly noon, and the engagement began ; but I had 
no idea whatever of the position either of our force 
or the enemy's. Cannonading was heard all round, 



BATTLE OF GROSS-GOKSCHEN. 243 

and the enemy seemed to be behind Gross-Gorschen, 
but I could not perceive them. 

I rode together with Gneisenau and the ofHcers 
surrounding Bliicher. The enemy stood before the 
houses of tlie viilnge. A cliarge of cavahy was 
made on our side, and I suddenly found myself in 
the midst of a shower of balls. Prince Wilhelm's 
horse was shot dead under him. The charge was 
repulsed. Of how I got into the midst of it and how 
I got out again I can give no account whatever; 
only two things remained clear on my recollection. 
One was the sensation caused by the enemy's grape- 
shot. It seemed to me as if the balls came in thick 
masses on every side — as if I was in a heavy shower 
of rain without getting wet. Yet I cannot say that 
I was exactly overcome w^ith fear ; the impression 
was more strange and peculiar than alarming. The 
second object which distinctly impressed me was 
Prince William. He was then about thirty years 
of age, liandsome in person, with the undaunted 
air which belonged to his royal race ; and he was 
mounted on a splendid charger, which he managed 
perfectly. Ashe rode, smiling and composed, amidst 
the shower of balls, he seemed to me like a fair vis- 
ion which I shall never forget. Gneisenau seemed 
quite joyfully in his element. Immediately after 
the attack he gave me a message to General Witt- 
genstein ; and now began my darker part of the day. 
I rode forward, and looked about. That the battle 
was still raging near Gross-Gorschen was proved by 
the tremendous cannonade of the enemy. I had 
no idea where to find Wittgenstein. Everything 



244 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

round me seemed confused, and as if I was covered 
with a veil. I felt a tottering, a swimming, which 
sprang from my inmost soul, and increased every 
moment. I was plainly seized with a panic — the 
cannon fever. I found Wittgenstein notwithstand- 
ing, and delivered my message ; and as I returned I 
met a detachment of my own volunteers, v>dio as 
yet had taken no part in the engagement, but ex- 
pected orders every instant to advance. I described 
to them under all the excitement of the moment 
exactly what I had seen and experienced. The 
young men listened with thirsting curiosity. It is 
well known how they distinguished themselves that 
day by their daring valor. When I rejoined Gnci- 
senau all, was in active engagement, every man 
knowing his duty and working hard in his appointed 
place. Nobody of course troubled themselves about 
me, and the feeling of m^ inability overwhelmed 
me, whilst I was obliged to stand there a mere 
useless looker-on. I perceived Scharnhorst carried 
wounded away. I had lost sight of Gneisenau. I 
was surrounded by strangers, and I found myself 
at last alone, with the enemy's balls howling around 
me. 

There are several sorts of courage, as well as rea- 
sons for its failure. I was on the battle-field for the 
first time, not only without any distinct duty, but 
contrary to the orders of my commanding officer. 
To the consciousness of this I attribute the uncon- 
trollable panic which seized me ; yet I never enter- 
tained an idea of retiring from the scene ; such a 
possibility did not once occur to me, and I managed 



COOLXESS OF GNEISENAU. 245 

to collect my senses so as to observe what passed 
for the space of two hours. Sometimes the fight in 
and about Gross-Gorschen came nearer to me, and I 
saw the Prussian cavalry exposed to the fige from 
the guns. I saw how their ranks thinned, and how, 
as here one and there another was unhorsed, with 
frightful wounds, the rest quietly closed up and 
filled the spaces. At length I found myself late in 
the evening again with Gneisenau, and close to the 
village. He, who must have noticed ray agitation, 
was himself perfectly calm and cheerful, notwith- 
standing that the issue of the day was still uncertain. 
"Steffens," said he, turning to me, "is not that a 
grand cannonade ? it is to celebrate your birthday." 
He had passed the last anniversary with me in my 
house ; that he should remember and joke upon it 
at such a moment struck me as wonderful. As it 
became dark I joined Mnjor von Schutz at a bivouac 
fire, and there heard of the advance of our cavalry, 
which attempted a charge against the enemy. That 
charge failed ; and although we maintained posses-, 
sion of the field from which the enemy had with- 
drawn, it was determined that we should retire 
towards Pegau. I rode in the dark by the side of 
Schutz to the edge of a rather steep declivity by 
which our troops were marching in slow and perfect 
order, while other detachments were reposing by 
the bivouac fires, which lighted up the trees. The 
impression of such a scene, Avhich afterwards be- 
came familiar to me, was at first very striking. We 
reached the little town in the middle of the night ; 
it was crammed with troops, but we got a tolerable 



246 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

lodging, and through intelligent officers who had 
been in the engagement I got some general insight 
into the events of the day and their results. This 
was n»ost welcome ; for hitherto all was mystery 
and confusion to my understanding. The object 
of the great contest, as it had engrossed me for so 
long, again rose clearly to my perception, and I felt 
convinced that I should not meet a second battle as 
I had done the first. 

In spite of our retreat we looked on the affair as 
a success, for the troops had stood bravely against 
Napoleon, and a most valiant si)irit pervaded the 
whole army. Satisfied with our position, and recon- 
ciled with myself, I slept. 

On the third of May I joined BlUcher in Borna, 
and found the troops in regular march, all in close 
order, as if going to meet an enemy ; nothing be- 
trayed the appearance of a retreat. Blticher had 
received a slight wound, but was in high spirits. 
Prince William was with him, and remembered that 
he had seen me early in the fight, and I received 
compliments vrhich were far from being due to me, 
and which made me feel ashamed, though I trusted 
and believed that, had I been in the performance of 
some active duty, I should have found my courage 
much more manageable than it had been in my idle 
position. 

For the first days the retreat was continued over 
a sandy level. Blucher was in the midst of the 
troops as they proceeded leisurely. The army was 
in such perfect order that many considered the re- 
treat an unnecessaiy disgrace, and as this opinion 



BLVCEER'S ADDRESS. 247 

was rather boldly expressed, it came to Blucher's 
ears, who thought it necessary to address the troops 
about it. This was my first opportunity of admiring 
his astonishing eloquence. The substance of the 
speech is generally known, for it was published to 
appease the whole army, as well as to tranquillize 
the people. " You are right," I heard him say, " you 
.'.re not beaten — you kept the field, and the enemy 
withdrew ; their loss was greater than yours." And 
he then explained to them all his motives for not 
j)ushing on the battle, as well as those for retiring. 
I heard him repeat the same to various divisions as 
they came up ; and while I praise the faciUty and 
noble simplicity of his expression, as well as the 
l^ower of giving the same meaning in so many 
various forms, as often as he had to repeat it, I 
must confess there was something besides the words 
which gave such effect to the address, and that much 
was owing to the appearance and manner of the 
aged but powerful-looking man. 

Early in the morning of the 16th of October I 
found myself at head-quarters near the village of 
Lindenthal. The day was bright and mild ; it is re- 
markable that every engagement in which I have 
been present has taken place in the finest weather. 
Behind us lay a wood, before us an extensive plain. 
The enemy were posted towards Mockern, on which 
point we were advancing. The battle began, and 
we were already under a hot fire, when Gneisenau 
dispatched me to seek out the crown prince of 
Sweden, who held himself in the rear somewhere 
near Halle, and entreat him to advance without de- 



248 THE STORY OF MY CAItEER. 

Iny with liis Swedes. I liad much trouble in finding 
liiin ; 110 one knew his exact position, and it was not 
till night that I made him out at Landsberg, in mis- 
erable quarters, surrounded by Swedish officers. Ho 
lay on a mattress spread on the floor of a desolate, 
nearly empty room ; the dark Gascon face, with the 
prominent nose and the retiring chin, was sharply 
relieved against the white bed-clothes and the laced 
nightcap. Gneisenau had explained to me fully the 
positions of both armies, and how the enemy, con- 
sisting of the choicest troops and the Imperial 
Guard, headed by Napoleon in person, were pressed 
back by us on Mockern, where the chief contest 
would take place. The crown prince listened atten- 
tively whilst I explained all this in my own lan- 
guage and his adjutant translated it to him. Ho 
then sat up in bed and made a very long speech, 
which concluded with a promise to march directly 
with his troops, and he dismissed me. Only half of 
Gneisenau's commission, however, was fulfilled. I 
liad orders to mix among the Swedish soldiers, for 
he reckoned on ray being able to make some im- 
pression on them through my native language. An 
opinion prevailed at head-quarters that. the crown 
prince had no great liking to take part in a battle 
which threatened a signal overthrow to his own 
countrymen, and Gneisenau thought that I might 
rouse the ardor of the troops. I was to remind 
them of their great king Gustavus Adolphus, and 
of his gloi-ious battle of Leipzig, and to urge that 
on the same field the fote of Germany was now to 
be decided, under our generals, as it had been then 



APPEAL TO THE SWEDES. 249 

under their great Iiero. I held all possible converse 
during the night with both men and oificers, when 
I found that the order to march had preceded 
me. Many werc^lready moving off, but some offi- 
cers remained indolently looking on when all was 
ready, waiting for farther orders. Talking with 
these, I perceived that the war had no national in- 
terest for the Swedes ; they could not see why they 
should be pressed into a struggle in which they 
were quite unconcerned, their country not being in 
danger ; the sacrifice was too hard upon the poor 
Swedes ; besides, the small force they could pro- 
duce would be lost among the mass of nations now 
armed against Napoleon. I tried to persuade them 
that the renown of their leader would influence and 
strengthen the whole allied army. I cannot praise 
myself for this part of my argument ; I spoke it 
against my own conviction ; my German feelings 
gave the proud lie to this acknowledgment of supe- 
riority in a Frenchman ; indeed, we always held that 
the victory at Dennewitz was due alone to General 
Billow. Nor had I much to boast of in the way of 
impression made upon the Swedes ; the elements of 
heroism were not in them, and my declamations on 
the scene of the approaching battle, and the great 
deeds there performed by their Gustavus Adolphus, 
did not help the cause much, for it had of late be- 
come rather the fashion in Sweden to disparage the 
merits of that hero. 

Towards noon, however, the Swedish troops were 
all on the march, and as I learned that this was to 
be a day of rest, I gave my exhausted horse some 



250 THE STORY OF MY CAIiEEIt. 

refreshment. It was dusk when I perceived the 
Prussian troops on a height near Moekcrn. I learnt 
tlien the issue of the engagement^ which had been 
the fiercest of the whole campaign. It was usual 
with Gen. von York to be irresolute before he deter- 
mined on an attack; once resolved, he ventured every- 
thinir. The struscs^le before Mockern had been with 
Napoleon himself and his finest troops ; ho had of- 
fered battle ; the victory was long doubtful ; all the 
first engaged fell ; new troops were continually 
brought up, and the final triumph "was won by the 
reserve corps. 

I found a party of the small remnant of Von 
York's division in a state of great depression. Eve- 
ning prayers were being read ; glorious as had been 
the victory, the dreadful loss filled every heart with 
sadness. It was there that, face to face with Napo- 
leon, the Prussians had thirsted to redeem the shame 
of former times, and had rushed madly on the ene- 
my. The account of the battle of Mockern as giv- 
en from head-quarters was singularly short ; it was 
contained in a few lines, and the heroism displayed, 
and the important consequences which promised to 
result from it, wei'e scarcely noticed. On the sec- 
ond day, between that and the great battle of Leip- 
zig, an attack of cavalry took place under General 
Wassiltschikof, which was duly praised. It was 
plainly intended to jDass slightly over the Prussian 
exploits and to bring forward those of the allied 
Russians as much as possible. I inquired the way 
to Bliicher's head-quarters, and rode towards it in 
the dusk over the field. Afler a few steps my horse 



FIELD EXPERJEyCES. 251 

reared, I could not tell why ; my servant alighted 
and found a cor]')se in the way. I had to cross the 
field of battle, and could scarcely get on, the bodies 
hiy so thick ; my horse, obliged to face it, left off 
shying after a time, and I only perceived that I was 
passing one of the slain by liis quietly turning out 
of the way. I saw bivouac fires before me, but in 
the oppression of the scene I had forgotten my di- 
rection, and I doubted whether they belonged to 
our own troops or the enemy's; still I rode tow- 
ards the fires ; living men, whether friends or foes, 
were welcome. I reached a wide road and recog- 
nized the Russians. Naked men appeared by the 
bivouac fires, who looked like giants against the bril- 
liant light ; they were engaged in a curious process 
of purification, — they had taken off their shirts to 
pass them rapidly over the flames. I approached 
one to inquire where I should find Bliicher; he did 
not understand, but, cheered by the sound of 
voices, I rode on. I had passed the Russian fires 
and had been called to by a guard, whom I answered 
without taking much notice, when I heard a voice 
behind me, and understood the question, "Where 
are you going ? " I turned round and learnt that in 
a few more steps I should have heard the "qui 
vive ?'' It was late at night; our horses were quite 
tired out, myself the same ; so I thankfully accept- 
ed the invitation of a Russian artillery ofiicer to 
pass the night in his company. The party were 
gathered round a gun. Hunger made a slight meal 
very acceptable, and though we heard skirmishings 
at the outposts we fell quietly to sleep. 



252 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

At early dawn we received a morning salutation 
from the enemy in the form of some cannon-balls, 
which flew in high arches over our heads. The ter- 
rors of the evening, with the wild dreams of the 
night, vanished before the coming day, and the re- 
membrance of the great stake which that day was 
to decide met me in all its power. Soldiers stretched 
at length round the fires were lying all round me, 
and as I proceeded I found them collecting more 
and more into groups, preparing for the expected 
battle. 

Blucher's head-quarters were in the village of 
Mockern ; all were yet sleeping when I got there. 
It would convey a false idea of the scene in Blu- 
cher's vicinity were it to be supposed that anything 
like haste or confusion was to be perceived there. 
Though so great a battle was certain to be fought, 
thouGfh all felt that on its issue the fate of the whole 
war depended, there was yet no trace of any such 
important crisis near the great commander. Every 
officer rose and dressed himself leisurely and care- 
fully ; the few washing utensils at command were 
taken to the wells, and when used by some were in- 
stantly claimed by the servants of others to be re- 
plenished. The windows were opened and laid back 
on the walls, to serve for looking-glasses. Coffee 
was brought in ; some drank from the cups and 
some from the saucers. Any little difficulty or acci- 
dent was seized on to give a cheerful turn to the re- 
marks, but these were never extended to the great 
event which was impending ; they spoke on indiffiar- 
ent subjects, even of gay recollections, and a joke 



THE ''NATION'S BATTLE." ^53 

was seized on and passed round with thankful ea- 
gei-ness. To a superficial observer they might have 
seemed like men who were preparing to pursue a 
journey, and were amusing themselves with the lit- 
tle miseries of an uncomfortable nio;ht's lod^jinc:. 

On that day we did not move out very early. 
Bliicher had joined himself to General Langeron's 
division, and we found these preparing to pass the 
Parthe. On the other side of that river the ground 
rises ; there a wonderful spectacle presented itself. 

Over the long, distant line of rising ground wo 
beheld the French army in movement, and it soon 
covered the whole ran2ce of hills. It was the multi- 
tude bound to the man who had subdued the conti- 
nent and ruled it so long by the terror of his name, 
now led by him to battle. The columns continued 
to emerge from the eastern horizon ; infantry, caval- 
ry, and artillery glided along in order, and now and 
then the arms glanced in the newly-risen sunbeams. 
The whole army seemed like a mighty vision in a 
dream ; fresh hosts continued to rise in the east ; 
still they continued to vanish from our sight far to 
the west, as the great unbroken mass moved on and 
on. We stood long in breathless amazement ; then it 
was that Muffling gave the name to the approaching 
fight — he called it the great "Nations' battle" (Vdl- 
kerschlacht) ; the name now belongs to history. "Wo 
were posted on a plain many miles in extent; troops 
were round us in every direction. General von 
York was fighting before Leipzig with the remains 
of his valiant corps. All around we heard the roar 
of fierce engagement, but we saw nothing, and re- 



254' THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

tnainecl there stationary the greater part of the clay ; 
while adjutants, who were constantly sent to the 
different corps, brought us back, every few minutes, 
reports of the progress of the light from every point. 
More than 300,000 men were brought by the allies 
into the field; 170,000 fought against us. Our 
ground, as I have said, was a large, open plain. 
Leipzig lay just before us in the distance. It was a 
strange day to me, passed in such perfect rest in the 
very centre of a great battle ; but the hours flew 
rapidly, the constant arrival of news kept us in 
such intense excitement. We heard that at Mock- 
ern the enemy had attacked Bliicher's division, con- 
sidering it justly as the centre point of the groat 
moral strength of our whole army. Napoleon him- 
self led on the attack ; he believed that any advan- 
ta<re trained over the most renowned of his enemies 
would help to subdue the spirits of the whole host. 
He then brought a half-dispirited army to meet an 
immensely superior force, yet his great mind had still 
power to animate his troops ; he knew the greatness 
of the stake. His soldiers fought as daringly as if 
sure of victory. I must pay the homage of admira- 
tion to a hero who made liis effort for existence with 
such daring courage. 

This battle also was fought under a brilliant sky. 
One of the scenes of that eventful day was strik- 
ing. We discerned a large body of cavalry advance 
from the enemy's lines in perfect order. There 
were no troops immediately near the poiyt they ad- 
vanced upon, and we waited quietly for their com- 
ing up ; no doubt Bliicher was advised of their in- 



BATTLE OF LEIPZIG. 255 

tentions. They proved to be the Saxon cavalry, 
who had left the enemy and come over to us. They 
stood looking resolved, but, as I thought, humbled 
before us. The commander came forward and ap- 
proached Bliicher, who received him with dignity. 
The Saxon officer stated that they had long waited 
for the moment when they might free themselves 
from the compulsion of bearing arms against their 
countrymen ; it had come at length. Yet they 
craved one indulfjence : thev wished not to fisfht in 
that battle. Their unhappy king was in Leipzig, in 
a house in the great market-place, which would soon 
be in our power. Bliicher addressed them briefly, 
but very kindly, granted their request, and appoint- 
ed them a position behind the army. I felt for 
them as they marched by ; I imagined all the dis- 
tress of their position. But all the events of that 
day, from the first, when the great host passed be- 
fore my wondering sight, up to that last scene, 
seemed like a splendid act in a Shakspearian drama, 
suddenly grown into a living truth. 

Till now I had taken no part in the active duties 
of the day. Bliicher, having dispatched all the rest 
of his staff, turned to me at last. "Mr. Professor," 
he said, "go instantly to General Langeron, take 
him orders to storm that village ; he must expect no 
help by reinforcement, but the enemy must be dis- 
lodged immediately." I hastened off; there was no 
doubt of the direction I was to take. Langeron had 
been long disputing Schonfeld ; he had been several 
times in possession of it, and the enemy had retaken 
it as often, and the flames of the burning village 



256 THE STORY OF MY CAllEER. 

showed me the way. I found him amongst the out- 
ermost houses; he was a stern-looking man with a 
commanding person. The enemy was again master 
of the greater part of the place. Surrounded by 
fires, the Russians were still fighting obstinately ; it 
was a strange, exciting scene, friend and foe in fierce 
contest, lighted up by the raging flames. I deliv- 
ered my orders. The general answered despond- 
ingly, "My men have fought for many hours, their 
numbers are thinned, they are tired and exhausted. 
I cannot withstand the enemy without support." I 
was compelled to tell him that he must expect no 
aid, and that the orders to take the place were per- 
emptory. He reflected for one moment, and then 
gave the word of command for storming. Every 
man who was not at that moment actually engaged 
sprang forward from all sides instantly ; tlie storm- 
ing party rushed onwards with a loud cry ; the en- 
emy could not stand against it, and, the fortune 
of the day turning everywhere against them, they 
abandoned the village to the conquerors. I took 
part with the general in this attack, and when the 
villnge was in our power and the enemy in full re- 
treat, I hastened back with the news to Blucher. 
At last I had been engaged. I had been a real 
sharer in the dangers of the day; but my duty had 
been so circumscribed, the moment of attack was so 
exciting, the struggle so short and decisive, that I 
had not been conscious of the danger till it was past. 
When I returned with the report to Blucher, he was 
already fally aware of the result ; he had known it, 
in fact, sooner than Laugeron himself, since from a 



DEATH OF A FRIEND. 257 

distance he had been able earlier to distinguish the 
retreating movement of the enemy. 

I was again at our central position, at that point 
of rest where we had remained throughout the day. 
Accounts now came in thicker of the general and 
glorious result of the contest. Evening was coming 
on, and we left our post and advanced slowly to- 
wards Leipzig. Suddenly a loud cry, as from thou- 
sands of voices, resounded in the air ; news came 
that our troops were pressing into the suburbs, and 
that the enemy were still defending themselves des- 
perately in the streets and gardens. We galloped 
forward and were soon up with our fighting troops. 

I received orders to join General Wassilschikof, 
who was appointed, with his cavalry, to pursue the 
flying enemy. I left the horrible distraction of the 
general fight and slaughter in the suburbs, and rode, 
as directed, to Skeuditz. I found that place full of 
Russian troops which had taken part in the day's 
conflict, and I was deafened, by certain German- 
speaking Russian officers, with histories of particular 
feats and combats. I was told there that a young 
Dane had fallen fighting valiantly, and learned with 
surprise and sorrow that his name was Oersted ; he 
was the third and youngest brother of my celebra- 
ted countryman. I could not doubt that it was 
my friend, though I little expected to hear of him 
among the Russian army. His death was sad news 
to me. It was a strange transition in my feelings, 
strained as they had been to the highest pitch by 
national events of overwhelming interest, and thus 
suddenly thrown back into the closer and dearer 

17 



258 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

circle of private sympathy; thoughts sprang quickly 
up of quiet days gone by, of rest, and hom#, and 
friendship, all in painful contrast with the turmoil of 
the scene around me. 

"We received news of the flight of the enemy. 
Wassilschikof moved on early next morning from 
Skeuditz towards Markranstadt, and passed the 
niorht between the nineteenth and twentieth in the 
neighborhood of Liitzen. Between that place and 
Weissenfels we came up with the last of the retiring 
army, and were then for the first time aware of the 
almost inconceivable results of the victory of Leip- 
zig. I there witnessed what quite consoled me for 
having been obliged to join the Russians, — the 
extraordinary effectiveness of the Cossacks in har- 
assing the rear of a flying army. The road to 
Weissenfels lies over a wide plain. We saw the 
last of the French troops before us ; though in hasty 
flight, they kept tolerably good order. It was rather 
a misty «norning, and there was nothing to be seen 
between us and the retreating enemy; all at once 
we perceived Cossacks in every direction, singly, 
or by twos or threes. In an instant they were joined 
into a troop, in *&nother they were down upon the 
enemy. These consisted of the faint and weary, 
who were not able to keep up with the rest. The 
Cossacks rushed in between them and the main 
body, and they were instantaneously surrounded 
and cut off from it. The rear-guard paused a mo- 
ment, turned, formed front without advancing, and 
began a rather brisk fire ; but the distance was 
too great for it to reach us. The Cossacks and 



RETREAT OF THE FRENCH. 259 

their prisoners had disappeared, as if by magic; 
only here and there we could distino^uish a sinMe 
Cossack keeping watch upon the enemy. The re- 
treating guard dared not linger for another fire ; 
they turned their backs on us again and proceeded. 
This scene was often repeated — the sudden appear- 
ance of the Cossacks; the cuttino- off the linijerino- 
troops ; the guard provoked to defend them, finding 
by the time they had faced us no object to receive 
their fire — was acted over and over again ; and in 
the short distance between Liitzen and Weissenfels 
General Wassilschikof took in this way two thou- 
sand prisoners, without any real skirmish taking 
place. 

The fugitives hurried forward, and when we 
reached the suburbs of Weissenfels we found the 
town occupied by the BJiiench ; we saw them in the 
act of passing the Saale by a bridge of boats. Blii- 
cher and his staff appeared at this moment. I joined 
him, and we mounted the heights behind the town, 
which run parallel with the river. The en6my had 
just time to withdraw their floating-bridge, and they 
drew up on the other side of the river opposite 
to us. 

We gave them a heavy cannonade from our 
heights. Tlie mist cleared off; the bridge of boats 
wliicli was constructed on our side soon reached 
across the stream, and the enemy, who then took to 
flight in great disorder, could not hinder our troops 
from landing. This was not the only affair during 
the pursuit. They were constantly attacked, and 
fled faster and faster; and, as we followed them 



260 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

from Weissenfels to Freiberg, we witnessed fearful 
traces of the general consternation. I shall never 
forget the sight. Weapons thrown away to lighten 
their speed ; guns, ammunition-wagons, carriages 
of all descriptions, even some handsome travelling 
equipages, — plainly abandoned because the tired 
horses could no longer draw them, — remained in 
close confusion, not only on the road, but in the 
fields, as far as the eye could reach in the direction 
of the fliglit. The way was often quite impassable, 
and we had to make considerable circuits to get on. 
The enemy themselves had entirely disappeared, at 
least I saw not one. 

When we reached Freiberg we learnt that Napo- 
leon had remained there some hours ; it was said 
that he had been seen at a window, his head resting 
on his arm in silent despa#. Berthier sat opposite 
to him in a similar state. Neither spoke, and om- 
cers who entered were silently ordered, by a wave 
of the hand, to leave the room. The inhabitants 
were full of anecdotes to prove the desponding state 
of the flying foe. 

Under the idea that Napoleon would try to main- 
tain a position, if only for a short time, at Erfurt, 
Bliicher abandoned the immediate pursuit in order 
to cross over by Langensalza towards Eisenach, and 
so intercept him. Tliis proved a mistake. Napo- 
leon's loss at Leipzig had been so great that ho 
could not feel safe till he reached the other side of 
the Rhine. We made continual marches, tedious 
from their uniformity. That part of the route be- 
tween Eisenach and Fulda was remarkable as dis- 



PHASES OF MILITARY LIFE. 261 

playing frightful traces of the defeat which the 
enemy had suiFered. The rapidity of their flight 
had completely exhausted the greater part of the 
army. We saw at first single Frenchmen lying 
among the bushes ; as we proceeded the number 
of the exhausted, dying sufferers increased, and we 
found large groups of dead and dying. It was pain- 
ful to me to observe that they looked upon it as 
a greater evil to be discovered by us, though we 
offered them assistance, than to be left to j^erish 
with hunsjer and exhaustion among^st the under- 
wood. I confess I wished myself away from the 
horrid scene ; it was more terrible to me than the 
violence of the fiercest battle. 

Many letters fell into our hands of French cor- 
respondence, as well as some from Germans to the 
French ; they sometimes furnished us with useful 
intelligence, but oftener related to private histories. 
Not a few tales of scandal came thus to light ; and 
we read the tender sorrows of German ladies whose 
French lovers were compelled to depart to meet 
the dangers of the war. I felt ashamed at the way 
these disgraceful liaisons were paraded for the gen- 
eral amusement. Another booty fell into our hands 
which entertained us — a great number of West- 
phalian orders, which had been sent to decorate 
the brave victors in expected fields of glory. The 
conquerors had vanished, and the symbols of their 
triumphs fell to our share ; as for the kingdom of 
Yv^estphalia, we regarded it as a ghost which was 
already laid. 

When the Emperor Napoleon abdicated and was 



262 THE STORY OF MT CAREER. 

sent to Elba, I petitioned the king to grant me my 
release from military service ; and as soon as the 
first credible reports of Napoleon's dethronement 
became general, I sent for a tailor to make my outer 
man myself again. I can hardly describe my sense 
of freedom when I jout off my uniform ; the long- 
worn dress was hateful to me, however I may have 
been honored in the right to wear it. All my linen 
was sent to a swimming-bath in the Seine, and I felt 
as if I were born again. 

My petition received the following answer : — 

" Since it appears to me that you will now more 
effectually serve the state by returning to your sci- 
entific appointment than by continuing longer in 
your present position in the army, I grant your 
petition to be released from military service, and 
together with this discharge I join my assurance 
that I acknowledge with thanks the patriotic self- 
sacrifice with which you laudably preceded your 
fellow-citizens in the hour of danger. 

"Frederick Wilhelm. 

«H. Q., Paris, May 5th, 1814." 

Bliicher with some of his officers was preparing 
to go to London, and he proposed to me to accom- 
pany him. I was truly grieved to be obliged to de- 
cline this most kind offer. My circumstances would 
not permit the great expense which I must have 
incurred to have appeared in the midst of mil- 
itary splendor in that luxurious city. I therefore 
parted from Bliicher, Gneisenau, and all the kind 



JiETDRN TO ACADEMIC LIFE. 263 

friends who surrounded them. As I took leave of 
them, the events which I had seen in the company 
of those great men swept before my thoughts in 
all their historical importance, and I was deeply 
affected. 

At my request the minister of state had supplied 
me with a courier passport and sum of money to 
defray my journey. I might have returned with the 
army, but my earnest longing to rejoin my family, 
and resume my quiet academic duties, increased 
daily, and prompted me to determine on an imme- 
diate departure. I must not omit to record my last 
dilemma. My passport had been made out to "The 
Second Lieutenant and Professor Dr. Steffens." I 
protested against the arrangement of these titles. I 
represented that I must stand by my real profession, 
and not that which I had only provisionally followed. 
I asked my kind friend who made out the passport 
whether, supposing the title of second lieutenant to 
be superior, I could in future designate myself Mr. 
Second Lieutenant without disparaging my aca- 
demic office. After much discussion on the point, I 
made a proposal which would avoid the question of 
the precedence of my two characters, that instead 
of Mr. Second Lieutenant and Professor, etc. etc., I 
should be styled Second Lieutenant Mr. Professor, 
etc. etc. This was adopted, and the difficulty hap- 
pily obviated. 



CHAPTER XI. 

LABORS IN BRESLAU — AVERSION OF NATURALISTS TO METAPHYS- 
ICS — NEANDER — PLATONIC ATTACHMENTS — J ACOBI — FRANTZ 
BAADER— STEFFENS'8 PROFESSORIAL LIFE AT BRESLAU — RAHEL, 
WIFE OF VARNHAGEN VON ENSE — BETTINA VON ARMIN — DE LA 
MOTTE FOUQUlfc — STEFFENS'S RELIGIOUS FAITH — THEOLOGICAL 
INQUIRIES— TRANSFER TO BERLIN — CONCLUSION. 

The work which absorbed my chief powers at 
Breslau, after my return to my professorial duties, 
was the development of a complete philosophy of 
nature. Such a science had swam before my mind 
from my earliest youth, although it had at first been 
in an undefined form. The defined and scientific form 
had been given to these vague dreamings by Schel- 
ling. It were an idle question whether my ideas 
would have taken shape had it not been for Schel- 
ling. I hate such questions; they are absurd. How 
ridiculously would a physiologist appear if he were 
to base elaborate investigations on the question 
what the human organization would have been had 
the heart been placed on the right instead of on the 
left side. The first steps in my inquiries were my 
own ; I could not stop in them, and had to follow, 
lead me where they would. I felt myself, while in 
Breslau, banished in truth from the scientitic world ; 
but I was faithful in all my labors, and successful in 
stimulating young minds. I had gone far enough 

261 



LABORS IN BRESLAU. 265 

to see tdat the philosophy of nature is an indepen- 
dent science, that it must form itself connectedly 
with and yet separated from every other department 
of knowledge. My task was not to plunge into all the 
details of empirical inquiry, much less to feel bound 
to follow all the departments of experimental sci- 
ence to their latest discovered results. It has been 
charged upon me that I considered myself compe- 
tent to master all these things ; but such a charge is 
untrue. Yet it is true that I was a patient inquirer 
into every department of physical science, and that 
ray interest in what is experimental was so great 
that when the University of Berlin was established 
I did hope to be transferred thither. I was forty 
years old, — just in my prime. I had to wait till I was 
an old man before I was transferred to the metrop- 
olis. Let it not be inferred that while the philoso- 
phy of nature had my whole heart, I did not know 
what relations I held to exiDcrimental science. 

Naturalists as a class will have nothing to do 
with metaphysics ; they deny in toto that there is 
any tendency in empirical science towards specula- 
tive science, and if they once had youthful dreams 
which were tinged with philosophical abstractions, 
they forswear them utterly when they come to en- 
ter upon their engrossing labors ; their views grad- 
ually become definite, single, fixed, and the prospect 
of making new discoveries is so attractive as to 
wholly absorb them. 

But the abstract philosopher will have just as lit- 
tle to do with empirical science ; you may often 
hear him speak depreciatingly of it. The natu- 



266 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

ralists may indeed be in search of laws through 
the pathway of experiment, but a response from the 
world of law does not come in obedience to their 
manipulations. Schelling had indeed laid a perma- 
nent foundation to the new science of the philoso- 
phy of nature, but he was now silent on this sub- 
ject, and was pursuing other departments of thought 
which were more attractive, and in which his great 
mind could find freer play. Many of the younger 
scholars were distinguished zoologists, botanists, 
mineralogists and geologists, and if speculative phi- 
losophy interested the youth, yet it was in the guise 
of a completely abstract, formal network, in which 
man would ensnare nature, not as a living and ani- 
mating spirit which leaps forth and struggles even to 
comprehend itself. I cannot say that I ever pledged 
ray allegiance to Schelling, for he was my master, 
and ruled me whether I would or not. One cannot 
speak of pledging loyalty where treason is impossi- 
ble. 

I knew my own true position well ; it never fell 
to my lot to be led by any cabal ; I did not believe 
in such things, and looked at them to overlook 
them, just as the mathematician does with infinitely 
small quantities. Not that I took this good-natured 
view from any want of experience ; on the other 
hand, it has been formed in defiance of experience. 
And so, relying on myself alone, rather than upon 
the help of powerful friends, I was surprised at the 
manifest tokens of public favor displayed towards 
me. Often in my old age I have wondered at find- 
ing myself a professor in a German university. The 



NEANDER. 267 

complexity of organization which is found in these 
institutions is so great as to be completely unintelli- 
gible to a mere observer, and tends to make one 
feel that he has passed out of consciousness into a 
dream. 

Let it not be thought that through this clear 
knowledge of my own jDosition I was troubled on 
account of the nature of my employments. I 
sought in every way to guard myself against self- 
deception, and to accustom myself to my isolated 
l^osition in Breslau, for that position had its good 
side. I had indeed passed the period of my rij^est 
maturity, but the glow of youth and the inclination 
to test by experience every subject of my thought 
would not leave me. If one looks over the whole 
course of my life he will see that I was less able 
than many are to withdraw myself from the circle 
in which I had lived. The present and future con- 
dition of Germany interested me just as much as 
my own observations of nature. 

While I was professor at Breslau, a chronic com- 
plaint in the stomach led me to try the waters of 
Carlsbad. I spent six weeks at those mineral spings 
— six weeks which passed, away very quickly and 
pleasantly. Among the invalids whom I met there, 
the most eminent was Professor Neander, whom I 
first knew as one of my audience at Halle. Even 
when a student there he lived the life of a recluse. 
He was remarkably reticent, and did not have many 
acquaintances. I only saw him in the lecture-room, 
but I knew well that his Tvas one of the best minds 
among my hearers. The students generally formed 



268 THE STORY OF MY CARE Eli. 

very coiTect judgments of one another, and they 
regarded this reserved, silent, awkward young man 
with a kind of timid awe ; they knew what he was, 
and what the world had to expecf of him. I was 
rejoiced to meet him at Carlsbad. During the time 
spent at the springs I talked almost exclusively 
with him, and I shall not forget how rich his con- 
versation was. He spoke mostly on religious sub- 
jects, but in a most instructive manner. His disease 
was not without danger, and he only kept himself 
in working condition by a most self-denying, simple 
and rigid life. He was accompanied by a devoted 
sister. The gentleness and the entire affection of 
this sister was very touching, and showed itself in 
the extreme accuracy with which she took care that 
he should follow the physician's charge regarding 
the times of drinking the water from the springs. 
The hours which I spent with Neander at Carlsbad 
I shall not forget, for I gladly became a pupil of 
him who had once been mine. Yet I missed there 
two frequenters of the place, — Goethe was away, 
Werner was dead. 

On my way from Carlsbad to Breslau, I tarried 
some time at Munich, which was then as great a 
centre of intellect as it now is of art. I saw Schel- 
ling again there, for the first time after fourteen 
years, and by him I was made acquainted with Sai- 
ler, the mystic, and with many other men of emi- 
nence. He brought me also in contact with Jacobi, 
whom I had long wished to know. In the later 
years of the last century there had been forming un- 
der the influence of Lavater, Claudius, and Hamann, 



PLATONIC ATTACHMENTS. 269 

a deeper spirit of religious inquiry, combining the 
mystical with the theological. As a consequence of 
their efforts there had arisen a circle who gave to 
their letters anct conversations a certain pi atonic 
cast of expression. There were ladies of high rank 
who took a deep interest in this : such were Sophia 
de Laroche, Goethe's sister, the princess Gallitzin, 
and Jacobi's sister, Lena. Jacobi himself was the 
real, living centre of it all. He loved to assemble 
gifted women around him and stimulate their pow- 
ers ; and in his romance of Waldemar he tried, in 
most perfect innocence of intention, to make this 
new bigamy attractive. A pure platonic marriage 
was, according to him, a sign of high spiritual de- 
velopment ; and such was his personal influence, 
that although his theory of this double marriage, 
that of the spirit for pure spiritual growth," having 
no relation to sex, and that of the body for the 
mere purpose of propagating the race, was never 
able quite to convince the ladies of its truth, 
yet he was able to gather around him a platonio 
academy, not unlike that once assembled at Flor- 
ence. That in this circle Goethe was rather won- 
dered at than honored, may be supposed ; that vio- 
lent controversies sprang up within it, was to be 
expected. Frederick Stolberg's conversion to Ca- 
tholicism made a great stir within it, although the 
reason of his action was very apparent; and Jacobi's 
style of writing, I may remark, is only intelligible to 
one who knows that it takes its form from the style 
of his conversation with those who formed his pla- 
tonic circle. 



270 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

Jacobi was the chief figure in this circle, and he 
was learned enough to pass for a genuine pliiloso- 
pher. He attacked the French with amiable gen- 
tleness for their want of the religious faculty, and 
this with perfect comprehension of their deficiency, 
for he had been brought up among them. Hume 
and Locke were favorites with him, and for the rea- 
son that, while they did not satisfy him, they gave 
him free play for all his speculations. Kant was not 
a favorite with him. Knnt's earnestness, his rigid 
dialectics, and his clearness, w^ere as unacceptable to 
Jacobi as the strict method of Spinoza. He indeed 
thought himself competent to be an opponent of 
Kant ; and it is not to be denied that Jacobi had a 
talent at suspecting where truth lay, and of specu- 
lating upon it, which was his justification in oppos- 
ing Kant ; and yet what the latter only made more 
narrow and limited, and kept in a smaller field 
than before, the former, by his want of clearness of 
perception, only made more obscure. 

Jacobi was poet enough to give the charm of style 
to his speculations, and the back-ground of philo- 
sophic thought was not an unhappy means of dis- 
playing the finish of his rhetoric. The Letters of 
Allwill, as well as Waldemar, cannot be compared 
with any other productions of his time; the mark of »a 
womanly nature which they bore formed, artisti- 
cally speaking, the characteristic of his conceptions, 
and formed an interesting precursor of that genuine 
womanly power which gave him at a later day bis 
sweetness, richness, and variety. 

I found Schelling perfectly justified for his sever- 



JACOBI. 271 

ity towards Jacobi. He had written of the latter 
with great power and keenness, but he could not do 
less. I told Schelling of my relations to Jacobi. 
"You must visit him," he answered; "it would be 
wrong to let pass an opportunity to meet a man 
who has played a grand part on the role of our na- 
tional literature." So I visited him, and found him 
with his sister, who lived for him, giving herself 
wholly to the duty of caring for him. Rigidly as I 
judged the philosopher and the author, little as I 
felt drawn to him at any epoch of my life, or could 
resolve to go with him on his way, yet there was in 
him an element so genuinely human that I could 
not overlook it, nor could I forget that it was he 
who first interested me in speculative philosophy by 
making me acquainted with Spinoza. I once be- 
lieved that he who called my attention to Jordauus 
Brunus, and who himself seemed to penetrate to 
what was deepest in Leibnitz, had been appointed 
to exercise a deep influence upon his times. The 
times had not been all that I expected, or rather 
they had demanded a mightier man than he to 
meet their exigencies ; and yet I could not see his 
sun sadly setting in his old age without a certain 
tinge of sadness. 

Jacobi was slim and graceful ; in his youth he 
must have been handsome. He appeared to me 
more as a finished gentleman than as a scholar; his 
bearing was high bred, even with a touch of diplo- 
matic manners ; his features were very expressive, 
and there was grace in his every motion. His dress 
was very rich and carefully made up ; it even 



272 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

seemed as though he bestowed too much attention 
to tliis matter, considering his age and his profes- 
sion. When I entered his room he received me 
with great cordiahty, and I approached him with 
an emotion which I could not repress. He called 
forth, I confess, my pity and my respect ; I could 
see that there was a man who had known by expe- 
rience what it is to bear sickness and sorrow. 

Jacobi liad some paper of mine lying before him. 
It is well known that his habit was of noting down 
his comments of whatever he read, whether in ap- 
proval or criticism, and by the abundance of these 
marginal notes on my production it was plain with 
what care he had read it. I knew well that he 
would not be displeased with it, for he was alluded 
to in the paper in a very kind way. It could not 
but be grateful to him to be handsomely spoken of 
by Schelling's warmest friend and closest adherent. 
But what pleased me in the interview was not so 
much his spirit as that of his sister, and the affec- 
tionate manner in which she clung to him. For a 
long series of years Lena had lived one life with 
him, had taken part in all his studies, had shared in 
all his disputations, had changed the still self-com- 
munion of that retired man into a long conversa- 
tion, and had even ennobled and exalted her broth- 
er by her presence. The spectacle of this rare at- 
tachment was very beautiful. He was trustful and 
mild ; she devoted, calm, and happy. 

It was my good fortune to make another interest- 
ing acquaintance in Munich. This was Frantz Ban- 
der. He stood so aloof from society, so signally iso- 



FRANTZ BAADER. 273 

later], that people looked at him with different eyes 
from those with which they regarded other people. 
In South Germany there had existed a mystic 
school for some time. It had, since the advent of 
Mesmer, espoused magnetism as its pet theory, and 
its members extended even into Switzerland. They 
stood, if I mistake not, in intimate relations with 
the mystics of South France, Saint Martin, and oth- 
ers, and Frantz Baader had in his youth been closely 
connected with eminent men of this school. Among 
all those mystics he w^as the most genial, as well as 
the most thoroughgoing. He was always publishing 
little pamphlets, some of them of great interest; the 
title of one I remember; it was The Lightning Fa- 
ther of the Liofht. This title itself migjht have served 
as the motto of all his writings. I had had some 
correspondence with him before I came to Munich, 
and had tlfe strongest curiosity to meet him. I had 
been thought to resemble him in appearance, and 
this only sharpened my desire to see him. 

So I called upon Frantz Baader. He was just on 
the point of going out. His figure surprised me, 
for it was not what I had expected. He was quite 
slim, very active, and his countenance was that of 
a man who had apparently seen much of the world. 
This appearance passed away when I came to know 
him more fully. He received me with great cordial- 
ity, and invited me to accompany him on a walk. 
We soon found topics of conversation. Expressions 
indicating deep thought were interspersed with 
dashing witticisms. He talked incessantly; and 
when a subject of special interest engaged him, he 

18 



274 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

would stop in the midst of the mud in the street 
and deliver, in a high, excited tone, a kind of off- 
liand lecture. The passers-by seemed to know him, 
and paid little attention to him. He joked inces- 
santly, and yet every now and then he would drop 
a wise remark, so that at last I felt fairly bewitched 
with his talk. I remember one remark which he 
made in the midst of this incessant play of fire- 
works. We were talking of Goethe. "Yes," he 
said, " this poet is in truth the Lucky Hen of our 
times, but she has hatched a brood of ducks, which 
swims securely, while the old hen stands fearfully 
cackling by the water-side." Afterwards he used 
to have his witticisms printed in the papers. When 
I was in Munich in 1837, before I had called upon 
him, he waited upon me at the hotel. As soon as 
he had entered my room, before he had hardly 
greeted my wife and daughter, he plunged his 
hand into his pocket and pulled out a mass of paper 
fragments on which his witticisms were printed. I 
remember only one of them. The cholera had 
thrown Rome into dismay, and the Pope had with- 
drawn to St. Angelo. " What will become of the 
Catholic Church," so ran the witticism, "now that 
the Pope has excommunicated himself?" Baader's 
own relation to the church was a very changing one 
in his later years. 

When I left Munich in 1817 he was thinking of 
nothing else than the formation of a great ecclesias- 
tical union. He had outlived then, if I remember 
rightly, the time when mesmerism was his hobby ; 
now he was busied with the thought of uniting the 



FRANTZ BAADER. 275 

* 

three great churches, the Catholic, Greek, and Pro- 
testant. The Catholic and Protestant Churches 
form, lie held, a complete antagonism, which was al- 
ways becoming more confirmed. The mystic trian- 
gle would only be formed by the admission of the 
Greek Church. He thought that he could interest 
the Russian emperor, Alexander, in his plan. In 
conjunction with a friend, he resolved to make a 
journey to Russia to accomplish this undertaking. 
How little he comj^rehended the scope of his pro- 
posed work, he very poorly understood, but he 
learned it at length. He had come to a powerful 
country, which was entirely new to him, and ex- 
pected to be able to influence its monarch. Fortu- 
nately he was persuaded to relinquish his plan and 
to tui-n back at Riga. He afterwards became a very 
determined antagonist of the Catholics, and showed 
in his own experience the truth of his assertion, 
that in case there were no union between the three 
great churches of Christendom, the one of south- 
western Europe would divide against itself. It is 
singular that the plan of a union, which, if it were 
a true one, would unite the most conflicting ele- 
ments of society, should emanate from a man whose 
disunited nature made him remarkable among the 
men of his time. He was, taken as a whole, one of 
the mai'ked men of the age, though he was compre- 
hended but by a few. He felt that Jacob B<5lnne, 
the mystic, was the grandest soul which Germany 
had produced, and that it was his own mission to 
reveal his greatness to the world, and although few 
knew Bohme's writings so intimately as he, yet he 



276 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

died at last, at a ripe old age, without having writ- 
ten any adequate exposition of him whom he was 
glad to hail as his master. 

My life at Breslau was unmarked by great events. 
In 1821 I was elected rector of the university, and 
endeavored to discharge faithfully the duties of that 
post. My time was devoted to the preparation of 
my lectures, to social gatherings, to the writing of 
my book on Geology, and the various novels with 
which I amused myself in my leisure hours, and 
enlarged the circle of my activities. Tlie latter 
received much applause, and brought me into inti- 
mate relations with many eminent personages. Yet 
my life at Breslau, protracted as it was until 1832, 
became dull and formal, and during the last seven 
years of it I felt a strong conviction that my meri- 
dian day had passed, and that I had entered upon the 
period of decline. That I, an old man, should write 
novels, brought upon me a great deal of ridicule ; 
but they amused me, and I let the world laugh on. 
I was moderately successful as a lecturer. I had 
not a large number of students, but among them 
there were some of promise, .while among the pro- 
fessors there were a few men of mark and power. 
After Raumcr had been transferred to Berlin, the 
department of mineralogy passed over to me, and 
the charge of the cabinet became a part of my 
dutie^. So my time was fully occupied. During 
the vacations I made little tours with my wife and 
family to the most attractive parts of Germany, 
and always came back refi-eshed to my labors. I 
received while at Breslau distinguished honors from 



RAHEL VON VAUXHAGEX. 277 

the king of Denmark, who invited me to Berlin to 
attend him in his visits to the objects of interest 
in that city while he was the guest of the king of 
Prussia ; and the young prince, afterwards Freder- 
ick William the Fourth, showed me much honor on 
the occasion of his tour through the mountains of 
Silesia, at Avhich time I was designated as the direc- 
tor of the royal party in its excursion. 

The great advantage which I gained from my 
novel-writing was that it threw me into the most 
intimate relations with some of the most gifted 
women of my time. I am not easily able to ex- 
press what I owe to the stimulating powers of some 
noble minds of this sex ; but it is true that the time 
of my making their acquaintance was an epoch in 
my life. I may allude very especially to two, Rahel 
von Varnhasfen and Bettina von Arnim. With the 
former I had been for some time acquainted. The 
most marked of my former hearers, who left Halle 
in 1806 and went to Berlin, collected themselves 
around Rahel, and she became the wife of one of 
them. As an authoress she was always sententious, 
and she carried this manner into all her conversa- 
tion. She was invariably occupied Avith the .weight- 
iest subjects, and, although an authoress, yet still 
more a "woman. She was never the disciple of 
any man, although she was a hearer of Fichte's 
lectures. Great ideas were always thronging in 
upon her mind ; these were sometimes unexpressed, 
and sometimes they found utterance in her w-ritings 
and in her conversation. That which she could find 
no expression for, she used to personify in two men 



278 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

of her time, and all that was akin to life she as- 
cribed to Goethe, all that was akin to wisdom she 
ascribed to Fichte. Nor did her adoration of those 
men spring from an objective ai)preciation of tlie 
part which they played in the nge, it Avas i-ather 
the giving of her whole being to them ; she saw 
herself reflected in them as a true wife sees herself 
reflected in her husband. She did not come to it 
by comparing Goethe with other poets, nor Fichte 
with other philosoi)hers ; her view w^as an entirely 
independent one; and just as a true wife stands 
more securely in her own strength when she gives 
herself exclusively to her husband, so Rahel was 
the more independent in her own judgment because 
she measured her thoughts by those two. gigantic 
standards. 

With Bettina von Arnim my relations were of 
an entirely different sort. Clemens Brentano, her 
brother, was one of my first acquaintances in Ger- 
many. Achan von Arnim, her husband, I had met 
years before in Halle. There were epochs in my 
life when my intimacy wuth her was not without 
value to my mental development. Her rich, pe- 
culiar, yare, but unbridled fancy charmed me. I 
yielded myself wholly to it; we wandered together 
into the most distant regions, and I returned from 
such excursions as unwillingly as one would awake 
from a pleasant dream. Thoughts swift as light- 
ning ran through my mind while under the spell of 
this delightful enchantment, and a thousand vi.sions 
were formed which did not wholly pass away when 
I returned to my colder moods. After she became 



STEFFENS'S RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 279 

an authoress I saw less of her, and, indeed, our views 
of life drew us widely apart. And yet, though ray 
intimacy with her looks now like a dream, yet it 
afforded me some of the richest hours of my life. 

Among the gifted writers with whom I became 
acquainted, I ought not to pass over the wife of de 
la Motte Fouque. Her husband I had first met after 
the war. He had the ability to ingratiate himself at 
once into confidence; and when I first met him at a 
party, during a conve^'sation on all kinds of subjects, 
he drew me to a window. One of my expressions 
had pleased him, and I was not a little surprised to 
hear him say, " Steffens, that is spoken as it were 
out of my own soul ; we must know each other bet- 
ter." He embraced me, and continued to address 
me with the confidential Thou. Thus, while myself 
an old man, I had gained a new friend in a manner 
truly romantic. I have never been able to think 
without sadness of the declining days of this poet, 
who gained a not insignificant reputation. His first 
wife gave me her confidence in all matters of litera- 
ture. Yet I confess that she passed away before I 
had fully grasped the range of her capabilities. 

During my last years in Halle, and while I lived 
in Breslau, my interest in religion made great ad- 
vances. I had till then felt no inclination to join 
the church, and, indeed, I was wholly estranged from 
its interests. Looking at religion as I looked at na- 
ture, I saw that it must be everything or nothing to 
me ; but it seemed to me to have come to no posi- 
tive statement, and seemed little else than a product 
of esteem among those who are friends. Whoever 



280 THE STORY OF MY CARKER. 

had the good fortune to live in intimate rehuions 
with Schleiermacher, whoever has known the tlior- 
oughly noble, pure, tranquil, and tranquillizing spirit 
which he always carried, will understand how one 
who should associate with him would find it difii- 
cult to discriminate between his religion and his 
manliness. Later in life I learned that a reviving 
of church-spirit was one of the signs of the times. 
It cannot be denied that when one looks at the re- 
ligious character of the German nation during the 
past two centuries, this period of transition seems 
of special advantage. Bunsen was the pioneer in 
developing the history of sacred music through 
the successive steps of the Protestant church. lu 
liis researches it may easily be seen how our hymns 
have gradually lost an indefinite tone and have a^- 
sumed a personal character, as if speaking out the 
praises and aspirations of the individual heart. This 
indicates a change of feeling which, beginning with 
learned men, reached out at last and affected the 
whole popular heart. 

I need not enter into all the thoughts which en- 
gaged my attention as I turned seriously to this 
great topic of religion. The question which most 
nearly concerned me was, Must I, in order to be- 
come a Christian in the full sense of the word, neces- 
sarily become a theologian ? Must I give up the 
studies to which I seemed to be specially adapted, 
and enter in my old age upon a course of inquiries 
tor which I had no natural inclination ? Few men, 
I think, have contended as earnestly within them- 
selves as I did while settlincr this battle. A 



STEFFENS'S RELIGIOUS VIEWS. 281 

Protestant was I with my whole soul, yet I 
must confess that Protestantism as it existed then 
seemed to have called forth a conflict which it had 
not settled. And so I was given over to all kinds 
of doubts. Still, I was convinced that religion was 
not mere speculation, it was not philosophy; this 
was ideal and subjective; but religion must be objec- 
tive truth, having the same I'elation to the soul and 
its wants that nature had to scientific investigations. 
Like nature, it was a gift of God, and it must be 
known and become real to the consciousness. 

It is impossible for me to express the value that 
Schleiermacher was to me in those days ; my rela- 
tion to him was the most charming feature of my 
early life. His personal weight of character 'was so 
great that he had an influence on the superficiality 
of Berlin greater than any other, and his funeral 
obsequies were celebrated by the most remarkable 
display of afiection and reverence that Berlin has 
ever witnessed. And while we were tosrether he 
strengthened me beyond measure, and formed the 
centre of all friendly gatherings. The three Calvin- 
istic preachers of Halle vrere intimate with Schleier- 
macher, and so, while I did not fully understand all 
their statements of doctrine, I was united to them 
and him in truly Christian sympathy. 

My thoughts were directed to the subject of the- 
ology and the church during the later years of my 
career at Breslau, and had a decisive interest over 
the future of my life. By degrees I became attached to 
the old Lutheran faith and symbols, and an avowed 
bupporter of the Lutheran party. I united witii 



282 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 

their church, and continued in full fellowship with 
it, and the pamphlets which I put forth in defence 
of it contribute no slight portion of my published 
writings. But I met with great opposition, and 
from none more than from my coadjutors at Bres- 
lau. There is little need that I should dwell on the 
bitterness which grew out of this. Enough to say 
that all ray later years there were saddened by theo- 
logical asperities, and that at last I longed to be re- 
moved to some other field of labor, where, in quiet 
and with an income equal to my moderate wants, I 
might pass a tranquil old age. I had then nearly 
reached my sixtieth year. I had passed over twenty 
years at Breslau, and had many ties which bound 
me there, but not so many as to offset the bitterness 
wl^ich sprung from the theological jjosition which I 
had taken. It was preeminently the time for exag- 
gerated church feeling. The king, Frederick Wil- 
liam Third, was devoting much attention to his plan 
of union ; in fact the formation of a new church on 
the basis of the united Lutheran and Calvinistic 
churches was the absorbing subject of his thoughts, 
and the crown prince Avas scarcely less interested 
than he. The country was awake with an ecclesias- 
tical spirit which had hardly been known since the 
days of the Reformation. 

Under these circumstances, while I had in my 
earnest advocacy of the Lutheran cause estranged 
many able and influential men from my interests, 
the personal favor of the crown prince placed me 
at once in complete possession of what I desired, 
and procured me a call to the University of Berlin. 



TRANSFER TO BERLIN. 283 

This was in 1832. There was no place which I so 
much desired as a homo as BerUn. Konigsberg 
seeraed to be out of the world ; and Bonn, althouirh 
desirable on many accounts, was not to be compared 
with the great Prussian capital. And yet my man- 
ner of thinking was radically unlike that of Berlin ; 
the empirical school had there complete sway, and 
Hegel's exact method had no rival. The reception, 
therefore, given to a disciple of Schelling could not 
be cordial, and much as I felicitated myself on my 
transfer, yet I did not expect immediate success? 
and was not disappointed at not meeting it. The 
subjects on which T lecture are comparative physi- 
ology, psychology, geology, the j)hilosophy of re- 
ligion, those on psychology being the most largely 
attended. My room har never been thronged, yet I 
have been gratified in drawing around me not only 
an unusually large number of foreigners. English- 
men, Poles, Russians, Greeks, and Americans, but 
in winning the confidence and attachment of some 
young men of rare promise. Since ray transf^ to 
Berlin I have been elected rector of the university, 
and have sought to administer that trust as impar- 
tially as at Breslau. On the whole I have passed 
ten pleasant years here, and my old age is drawing 
to a tranquil end. It is a great consolation to me 
that my own king now regards me with so great 
favor, that my Danish fellow-subjects look upon my 
career with pride and upon me with honor, and 
that in my little journeys to Denmark, and to Nor- 
way and Sweden, I have received attentions which 
I wish were better deserved. The preparation of 



4 

284 THE STORY OF MY CAREER. 



my Autobiography has been one of the recreations 
of my declining years, for it is not without pleasure 
that I have gone back into the valley of past years, 
reviewed the scenes and the hopes of youth and 
early manhood, and recalled the faces and the char- 
acters of those whom I have known and loved. 
Mine has been an eventful life and passed in event- 
ful days, and I trust that its story has not been a 
mere recreation to an old man, but to many a reader 
who loves the social and the scholarly life of Ger- 
many. - 



THE END. 



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(48) 



(LITERARY.) 



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(46) 



Soultr Hiitr ^hicaln s 1|itWxtatxcriTS, 



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(LITJERARY.) 



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